Seasons of Wither
by Vernie
Summary: Katniss and Gale give into a moment together that changes their lives forever. Takes place before and during the first book. No games.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This fic contains spoilers for the first book, but that's it. If you haven't read the the second and third book yet, you're safe to read this.**

**This is a Gale/Katniss fic with some one-sided Katniss/Peeta. The first few chapters take place before the first book. It won't be about the Hunger Games, obviously.**

**Though I have a copy of each, I don't own the rights _The_ _Hunger Games _trilogy. But you already knew that.**

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_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 1_

As I trek towards the sometimes-electric fence that borders District 12 this morning, heaving my game bag up onto my shoulder as I take a quick sip from my canteen, I glance towards the rising sun and estimate by it's position in the sky that it is around 7 o'clock. There's a thick haze of fog that hangs heavy in the air from last night's rain, but I know that the rising sun will most likely rid the land of it, quickly making things visible again.

I duck through the usual opening in the fence after a quick pause to listen for the slight hum of electricity, but finding none. I retreat to the hollow log where my bow is always stashed, noticing that Gale has already taken his and is waiting for me in our usual meeting spot. He's sitting against the trunk of a large oak tree and sipping warm tea from a mug when I find him, and he smiles in my direction.

"I checked the snares already," he informs me, holding up his kill for the morning—three rabbits and one possum, all plump and round. I smile in satisfaction.

Spring has come early this year, and our usual haul has definitely increased. We're often finishing our hunting trips early and retreating to the Hob with a good amount to be traded. It's a happy time of year for our families. They are all well fed, and whatever we manage to trade has helped us even pick up a few rare delicacies we usually don't have the pleasure of partaking in.

"And the day is still young," he says with a grin.

We travel deeper into the woods where we had set up a hunting blind earlier that month in a place where deer often frequent during mating season. There isn't as much sport in hunting them this time of year, and young bucks and does often pass by our camouflaged disguise near a slow-moving brook deep in the woods to get a drink of water. If I can pick one off today, we'll be more than set for the rest of the week.

We sit silent in the blind for a couple of hours waiting for the sound of the hoofed animals walking delicately through the forest. Gale nods towards me, and I hand him my canteen. He smiles in thanks as he takes a long drink of the crisp, cool water. Even though we can't really speak in the blind, this is one of my favorite places. I appreciate the way that Gale merely glances at me, and I can understand exactly what he wants. It comes from years of hunting together.

Not much time has passed when the sound of twigs crunching alerts me, and I quickly draw back an arrow into my bow, readying myself for the impending kill. When a twelve-point buck walks into our view, I steady myself for an accurate shot in it's chest. Taking a deep breath, I finally release the arrow, and the buck scampers off into the woods, the projectile still hanging from the animal as it flees in shock and pain.

Pleased, Gale pats my back and we both exit the blind to follow it's blood trail further into the forest.

"Nice shot, Catnip. A week's worth of kills all before lunchtime. Not bad."

I grin to myself as the blood trail ends and we find the deer's lifeless body on the forest floor. Gale sinks down to his knees, holding his hand out for a knife which I pull out of it's place tucked behind my belt before handing it to him handle first. A short while later, the deer is gutted and we begin to drag it along with us.

"What to do with the rest of our time?" I ask with a sigh. If I remembered correctly, my mother had a patient with a festering accidental stab would this morning, draining a steady stream of pus from his infected limb. I turn green at that very thought and the idea of returning home right now was not a desirable one.

Gale heaves the deer, dragging it haphazardly behind him. "It's cool enough that it'll keep for awhile," he assures me, motioning to the deer. "An early lunch at our usual place before we drag this to the butcher's?"

I nod in agreement as we walk along.

Our usual bush of berries isn't ripe this early in the year, but I had a small stash of fruit I had dried last fall, so we sit down as we snack on our sweet treat along with a few pieces of roasted rabbit my mother had been cooking that morning.

"I'm glad your mother knows to cook," Gale comments, causing me to smile. We both know that I definitely lack in my culinary skills, as I'm not the best future homemaker in District 12. "I feel sorry for the poor guy who ends up having to eat your cooking every day. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to snag yourself a husband who's more handy in the kitchen?"

I laugh a bit at that idea. "We both know that's not going to happen, Gale."

He shrugs. "I don't know. There's a lot of soft men out there. What about the baker's son? Every time we knock on the back door of the bakery, he's always pulling pies and cakes out of the oven."

I shake my head in disagreement. "That's not what I mean. What I meant is that we both know that I will never marry."

Gale, who's sitting back on his elbows now, looks towards me with curiously. "Come on, Catnip. There's plenty of young men who'd have you."

I feel my cheeks heat at his comment, shaking it off. "I'm never going to marry. Never going to have children. Not here. Not ever."

Gale's expression softens at my declaration, and I mentally chastise myself for saying it. These are the types of conversations that usually set him off on a verbal rampage about the Capitol. Though I usually join in, he tends to get pretty worked up over them and often we both go home angry.

"You'd never want even a casual relationship?" he asks, surprised. "You'll be lonely in the world once you're grown and your little sister doesn't need you to look over her anymore."

I feel my heart sink a bit at his comment. Prim has matured a lot since our father has died. At the tender age of 12, she's already much more self-reliant than most girls even my age. I imagine what life will be like when we're both grown. Even though I'm completely opposed to starting a family, Prim will surely find someone to love. Her heart is so much bigger than my own, after all.

I swallow hard this realization, and I can still feel Gale's steady gaze on me. Suddenly, he clears his throat.

"What about the intimate aspect of the relationship? Never gonna let yourself experience that either?" he asks matter-of-factly, dropping his hunting knife so that it sticks into the soft ground below him.

He words his question so nicely, but I know what he's trying to ask me: Am I going to remain a virgin for the rest of my life? It's no secret that I have no experience with boys. I've never kissed anyone, let alone slept with somebody. It's not a topic that we've ever discussed, but Gale knows me well enough to realize it.

My eyes quickly meet his, and I find that they're burning with intensity. I can feel my entire body blush at his question, and I quickly grasp my bag and begin to stand. However, his hand reaches out to stop me before I do, and his eyes are filled with sorrow.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't..." he begins, and I sink back down beside him. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he regrets asking, but it did seem like an innocent question coming from a guy like Gale. This isn't something he would ever tease me about. He would never judge or make me feel awkward for my decision, but still he looks so curious.

"I don't care about..." I trail off a bit nervously. "I don't want kids."

He lets out a small laugh. "I'm not talking about making babies, Catnip. I'm talking about the entertainment value."

I raise my eyebrows. "Gale, have you ever...?" I begin, and his reply is to sit back and sigh before taking another sip from my canteen. I know that I shouldn't have asked in the first place, but I still wait patiently for him to answer my question. "Yes," he finally admits, and my eyes widen. I don't know why I expected Gale to be a virgin. I never have seen him with a girl, though he does have a life outside of me, I suppose. But to be honest, it's a naïve thing for me to think. Gale is older, tall, muscular, and handsome, and the girls at school all recognize this, too.

I realize the next words that come out of my mouth are the wrong ones. "Do you? With lots of girls?" The question doesn't seem to bother him though.

"No, Katniss."

I frown as I look down over the treeline below us. And I can't help but to wonder how often? And when? Or, more importantly, with who?

"It's not a bad thing. It's fun, actually," he finally says when we both realize there was not turning back from this conversation. It's already started so we might as well go forward with it.

"Well, I don't feel like I'm missing out on much," I say.

"You have no idea," he says with a laugh. "You're denying yourself a basic human need, and for the rest of your life."

"I bet it's not as amazing as people let on," I mumble. "It's for a man's enjoyment while keeping women at their beck and call as they push out babies left and right."

Gale merely laughs at my comment as he shakes his head. "You're never going to need a man in your life, Katniss, but please don't knock it until you try it." He stands up, brushing the dirt off of his pants and I quickly follow in suit. "You'll always be innocent. You can barely stand the thought of a naked man, let alone deal with the sight of one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask him, beginning to grow angry.

"That day down by the brook. When I soaked my clothes checking the fish trap we'd built? I hung them up in a tree to dry and you were as red as a tomato."

"You were in your underwear!"

He smiles out my outburst. "Don't take it personally. I think it's precious how bashful you are about sex at your age." There, he'd said it. The very word we both had been trying so hard to avoid saying.

"And look at you," he says, tapping my nose lightly with his fingertip. "I didn't know it was possible for someone to blush this much. Just the very discussion of you being intimate with someone-"

I gape, pushing him roughly, but he only laughs harder as he stumbles backwards. "I am not innocent!" I quickly defend myself. "I escape into the forbidden woods—daily almost—to break the law by poaching! If anyone who cared ever found out, I would be publicly executed!"

"Sure, Catnip."

I shake my head and watch as he sinks down to the ground to throw the deer carcass over his shoulders as he ignores my scoffing. Then something comes over me. I feel like I have to prove to him I wasn't the little girl he'd met in these woods four years ago. I had to prove that I wasn't afraid. Being innocent is almost as bad as being weak, and before I know it, I'm grabbing him possessively by the collar of his button-up shirt and placing a rough kiss onto his lips.

To say that Gale is surprised by my actions would be an immense understatement. I watch his eyes widen as he drops the dead animal back to the ground, his body tensing before I finally let go of my death grip on his shirt, backing up to catch my breath.

"Well," he finally manages as he stares at me in shock. "That was..."

I wince. I can't believe what I had just allowed myself to do. I was just trying to prove my point, but I hadn't allowed myself to think about how awkward the action would be before I planted a big, wet kiss onto his lips.

"Forget it," I say with a groan, spinning on my heal and walking away, honestly hoping that he does.

"Come on, Catnip!" he calls after me, but I only walk away more quickly. He finally catches up with me, spinning me by my shoulder to meet my gaze.

"You just... You caught me off guard is all." He still looks like he's surprised I'd kissed him, and I have to admit that I am, too. "I didn't know that you thought about me like that."

"I don't," I mutter. "I'm not innocent, okay? Inexperienced? Yes. Innocent? No."

"So that's why you kissed me? For experience?"

We're staring at one another now, and I don't know what I'm supposed to say. Maybe part of it was curiosity. Maybe I wondered what his lips would feel like against my own. Maybe I wanted to allow myself this one intimate moment with a member of the opposite sex before I lived out a life of celibacy.

"Yes."

My answer seems to be the wrong one, and he picks the deer up once again as he begins to drag it back to the District.

"I mean no," I begin as he stops, not bothering to turn back around. "I don't know, Gale. I see you at school, the way the girls look at you, and I have to wonder if I'm missing out on something. But kissing and ogling over boys just isn't me. It's not what's important and it's not who I am. I just wanted to see what all of the fuss was about. Obviously it's important to you."

He turns around and his eyes meet mine.

"It's a terrible thing," I say. Because I know there's a lot more to worry about than boys or what I will be missing out on when I grow to be an old maid. There's the thought that the moment I loose my train of thought on survival and what is important, my family will pay the price. I have an crucial role in keeping them fed. In keeping my mother and Prim from the starvation which has taken so many in our district.

Gale shakes his head as he stares at me with solemn eyes. "It's not, Katniss," he assured me. "It's human nature. You want to enjoy the pleasures of life. There are only a few that exist here. What else do we have?"

I shrug, and for some reason I can't look at him right now. Admitting to your best friend that you're aching for human affection after planting a sloppy kiss on his lips isn't the most comfortable of situations. I begin to wonder how hard it will be to find another hunting partner, knowing that I'll never be able look at him again.

But my eyes meet his again as he cups my chin and raises my head to meet his gaze. "What did you think of this kiss?"

I can feel my blush returning as I stare back into the eyes that are the same color as my own, feeling his calloused hand against the delicate skin of my chin. He smells like hearth and animal skin and I try to fight off the feelings that I'm having for a person that I shouldn't be having them for.

"It was satisfactory." It's not much of a compliment, but he still smiles. Without another word, his lips tentatively meet mine. This time his arm locks around my waist, and my hands become entangled in the front of his shirt as we yield to the moment of passion between us. The kiss is so different from the first one that we had both been so unprepared for. This one is needful, attempting to fill a void that has been so deep and so empty for so long. Now I am certain that I was missing out this entire time.

My fingers go to my lips as we part, and Gale studies me intently. My nervousness over the situation causes me to tremble, and Gale's thumb brushes over my cheek and he continues to hold me in his arms. I want more, and judging by the look on Gale's face, so does he. His eyes soften before he speaks again.

"You can trust me, Katniss. Do you trust me?"

I nod dumbly. Gale Hawthorne may be the only person that I _do _trust.

There's an unspoken understanding between us about what happens next.

We make love beneath a large shade tree in the meadow. It's not about love or lust. It's about doing something so completely selfish after years of being weighed down with such an enormous responsibility. It's about living for ourselves for once rather than the well-being of the families we had become the unintended breadwinners for. It's a relief that—for one moment at least—I can think of what I want rather than what Prim and my mother need from me.

It's all like a dream flashing through my mind in the middle of the night, because it feels so surreal. I'm afraid for the pain, but it doesn't hurt. The tough life in the Seam and hunting in the woods for the past four years has taken what physically remained of my virginity. Gale is so gentle, staring down at me with warm eyes, making the act feel as if it is one between a man and a woman who are madly in love. He even holds me against his chest afterwards, running his hands through my messy dark hair as we both attempt to catch our breath.

We know that we can't really be together. That we shouldn't be together like this and probably don't even want to. I have quickly become one of Gale's conquests, and I don't expect anything more from him after this moment. Because we both know although we've given into this one desire, neither of us can allow ourselves to live this greedily.

We don't say much to each other as we leave for home with our trades. We go our separate ways, knowing that what happened between us today in the meadow must never be relived. It's a moment that I'll remember forever, but can never speak of again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 2_

I try to tell myself that what happened between Gale and I in the meadow won't come between us. I tell myself that nothing can break a friendship like this. Gale is still the same person, and so am I. The fact that it happened shouldn't change a thing.

But it does.

The next couple of weeks are awkward. We still hunt everyday, mostly because of the fact that we have very little choice in the matter. Our families still need to be fed, and there's still not enough food to go around in the district. But our families aren't the only ones relying on our daily kill. There's the other families that we trade with and the medicinal herbs that I gather for my mother that only grow outside the fence.

There is the thought that maybe we should talk about what happened, but I can tell that neither of us want to. It won't change anything and it certainly won't fix anything. I start to regret that it had even happened, especially now that every time I see Gale I'm instantly reminded of what he looks like without his clothes on. And every time that he inadvertently brushes against me, I remember the way our bodies melded together as one in the tall grass beneath that enormous oak tree.

I can't talk to him the way that I used to. I don't even feel comfortable around him anymore. I can tell by the way that he tries to keep his distance and our conversation at a minimum that it's been just as awkward for him even though he's already slept with a handful of girls. Those girls, however, weren't his hunting buddies. They weren't his best friend of the past four years.

Gale is quick to check the snares this morning as I follow behind him. Four rabbits and raccoon, which has just recently been snagged and tosses itself around in a frenzy to escape. I quickly hand Gale my knife and he spears it carefully, quickly killing the animal. Raccoon isn't a regular delicacy for us, but we have learned not to waste what we kill, and it's most likely that his pelt will be worth more than the meat on his bones.

"I promised I'd gather barberry for my mother," I finally tell him, and he nods. I have to sigh to myself at how cold we've been towards one-another. I tell myself that we will get through this and regain the friendship we once had. I want to believe that, but it's becoming hard to imagine now.

I walk down towards the brook where the plants are greener and more luscious. I find the one I'm looking for. Barberry is an ancient remedy for stomach discomfort, and my mother uses a lot of it. I make sure to keep her in good supply at all times. I wouldn't want the guilt of a child writhing in pain from a tummy ache on my head, after all.

As I lean down to pick the plants, the strange aroma of decomposing flesh hits me all at once. My nose wrinkles in distaste as I stand back up and follow the overpowering scent. I gasp when I reach the source of the smell—a rotting deer carcass lying only about 20 feet away from where I had just been gathering herbs. Although this is the woods and animals are living things that can also die of disease and not always at the hand of man, it's very unusual to find the dead carcass of such a sizable one. Usually they know that death is coming, and often find a quiet hiding spot to die.

I sink down on my knees beside the doe, studying her curiously. No bite wounds, and the animal doesn't look very old. I furrow my brows as I retrieve my knife and cut into it's belly. The meat is obviously no longer good, but I should probably be able to get something for the hide. But I almost vomit as a strange bright green foam leaks from the wound almost immediately, and my hand quickly covers my nose as I try desperately not to throw up.

"Gale!"

My discovery is so unusual that I find myself almost panic-stricken. Sure enough, Gale is tearing through the woods towards me in seconds, wielding his readied bow with a look of worry evident on his face. He looks somewhat relieved when he sees that I am not under attack, and attempts to catch his breath as he stares down at me.

"Are you okay?" he asks me breathlessly, and I instantly feel a bit guilty for worrying him. His eyes scan to the deer at my side, his wrist coming up to cover his nose. "Did you kill that?"

I shake my head. "I found it dead here. I thought maybe she'd been attacked by a mountain cat, but there's no scratch or bite marks on it's body. No sign of why she died. Oh, except for this," I add, holding my knife up so that he can see the glob of green foam on its blade.

Gale sinks down onto his knees before studying the animal apprehensively. He frowns as he stares at the green foam spewing from the belly of the dead, bloated animal in front of us. "Did you touch it?" he asks me, and I stare back at him confused. "Did you touch the dead deer!" he asks again, this time shouting. I flinch at his outburst as he looks at me desperately for an answer.

"Yeah, to skin it, but-" He doesn't let me finish and instead takes me by the arm and pulls me down towards the water. "Gale, what's going on?" I ask him in a slightly frightened tone.

"Wash your hands off," he gruffly orders. "Whatever killed that deer might be contagious, and you came in contact with it. Where's your knife?" he asks.

"I left it up on the bank."

"Get rid of it. Kick it into the brook and leave it."

I do as Gale says, removing my hunting jacket and washing my hands and forearms thoroughly. I become a bit paranoid by Gale's seriousness, although I'm pretty sure he's just overreacting. When I walk back up to the bank, he's standing over the carcass staring down at it with anger in his eyes, shaking his head.

"Gale, it's going to be okay. There's a lot more deer to be hunted here."

"Don't you get it, Katniss?" he asks me. "This animal didn't die of natural causes. Have you ever heard of a sickness like this? This is obviously biologic warfare, compliments of the Capital."

My mouth goes agape as we stare at one another, and I'm pretty sure his cheese has just slipped off of his cracker. "Gale," I begin, bracing his arm in an effort to sooth him, but he quickly pulls from my grasp. I sigh. "You're being ridiculous, Gale. Animals die of strange diseases all the time. Not everything bad that happens is some conspiracy from the Capital to do us in."

"I'd like to believe that, but-"

"No buts," I say sternly, becoming increasingly irritated with the boy. "We've been hunting here daily, and this is the first sick animal we've seen. If it were really something the Capital concocted up to kill off the animals, there would be a lot more damage than one dead doe."

"You're being very naive, Katniss. We know what they're capable of."

Gale may have a point. If the Capital were aware of how self-effecient District 12 had become by our sneaking outside the fence to poach, undoubtedly they would be angry. The Capital wants every district to rely on them for their food source, and they wouldn't think twice about exterminating the wildlife here if they knew we were using it to our advantage. However, I'm feeling tired and irritated, so I choose to ignore that particular possibility.

Although still obviously upset by my discovery, Gale seems to calm himself down a bit. It doesn't stop me from not wanting to be around him though.

"I'm going to gather the rest of my mother's herbs and go home," I finally tell him. We only have the rabbits and the raccoon, but I'm not sure I can stand another minute alone with him in these woods.

An hour later, my sack is filled with the necessary medicines my mother needs, and I take a little break without Gale to sit down and take a long drink of water from my canteen. I feel worn out after walking around all morning, so I pop a few walnuts into my mouth, hoping the extra protein will give me a bit more energy. I'd been feeling tired the past few days for some reason, but I wasn't quite sure why. I'd even allowed myself to sleep in a bit that morning, but the extra hour's sleep didn't seem to help.

After a few minutes of regaining my strength, I stand and my lower abdomen instantly begins to cramp painfully. I'd been a more than a little crampy the past couple of days, and I knew it most likely meant I was on the verge of beginning my menstrual cycle. I don't get them as often as they say you're supposed to. I experience my period maybe three or four times a year, and it's always very uncomfortable for me. I suppose I would get them more often if I were more well fed, and the fact that the past two months had been plentiful for me is probably what brought it on in the first place.

I brace myself against the trunk of a nearby tree as the cramp intensifies, and I double over in pain as I emit a soft moan. I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to focus through the pain and instantly feel a large hand bracing my upper arm for support. The wave of pain finally ending, I open my eyes to meet Gale's uneasy gaze.

"I came to see if you needed help," he told me quietly. "What's wrong?"

"Stomach ache," I lie. I wasn't about to fill him in about my menstrual cramps or pelvic pain. I knew my mother had a tea at home she specifically brews for this particular ailment, and made a mental note to drink some as soon as I returned home.

"You looked like you were in a lot of pain," Gale says, still unconvinced.

"It passed." I walk away leaving him confused. I don't know what he's thinking right now. I just know that I'm tired, achy, and need some time to myself.

**...**

I lie back in the bed that I share with Prim as I listen to the sound of my mother bustling around the wood-burning stove as she cooks our dinner. The rabbit and chives I had gathered make a delicious-smelling stew and I can feel my stomach rumble at the very thought of digging into a giant, hot bowl along with a small slice of bread.

As famished as I'm feeling right now, my cramps haven't subsided. My mother seems to realize this as she starts to warm a kettle of water and seeps the herbs which she uses to ease menstrual pain. Despite our turbulent relationship, I smile gratefully and thank her for the medicine.

"I laid out some strips of cloth for you, too," she informs me, but I still frown at the thought of having to use them in a day or two. I suppose that in the Capitol they have some sort of fancy pill they can take that prevents them from getting their cycle altogether. Here, we have to use small scraps of linen that bunch up in your britches when you walk.

That night I lie in bed with Prim at my side and Buttercup curled around our feet. I notice that's Prim's eyes are open and wide and she's studying me curiously.

"Katniss," she finally whispers when we are both certain that our mother has already fallen asleep. "Are you okay? You've been acting different lately."

I bite down on the inside of my cheek because I've been trying desperately not to let this thing with Gale affect anyone else. I guess I had been pretty lost in thought the past few evenings at dinnertime, and Prim was always the first to notice when someone was feeling down. I'm sure that my uncertainty about Gale and I was probably also the cause of my fatigue and irritability lately as well. The truth is that my relationship with the one person I always knew I could trust has shifted, and I'm still kicking myself for having let it happen. I could have told him no. I could have backed out that day in the meadow when he asked me if I was certain that it was what I wanted. But at the time I was too far gone to tell him no.

"Just going through the motions," I assure her. I don't want her to waste her time worrying about me, especially when I had brought this all on myself. "Everything is fine, Prim."

"You act tired. And sick. And Mother said that-"

"Don't worry," I reassure her, moving her bangs from her forehead and placing a kiss there. "I'm just in a bit of a rut. Nothing that a few days and some more of Lady's delicious cheese won't cure," I promise her while giving her a little chore to keep her mind occupied at the same time. She smiles back at me as she snuggles into my arms. "Now go to sleep, little duck," I whisper as she slowly nods off.

The next few days are spent waiting for a period that never comes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 3_

I sit at the old, warped lunch table in our school cafeteria, being careful not to snag myself on one of the splintering pieces of wood that make up it's seat. I remove the small package from my backpack wrapped in a small square of gingham fabric and unfold it onto the table before me. My lunch today consists of one small red apple and a generously sized glob of Lady's goat cheese, a gift from my sister. And, although I requested it, for some reason the site of the goat cheese makes my stomach churn. The way it sits there like a sticky glob before me puts me on the edge of vomiting, and I quickly remove the apple and wrap the cheese back up inside of the fabric, trying desperately to ignore the fact that it is there.

It will do little to settle my rumbling stomach, but it's something. There are many kids in this school whose parents can't afford to feed them three times a day. Unfortunately, we are forced to spend the half hour that is our lunch in the cafeteria, so the less fortunate are made to watch everyone else eat as their stomachs gurgle in desperation. Coming into lunch empty-handed is a bit of an unspoken shame here, but I used to be one of those kids myself. Until I began hunting with Gale, that is.

Madge Undersee takes her usual spot across from me at the lunch table, clanging her lunch tin loudly on it's top. Our eyes meet for a second, and just as usual, we don't bother with exchanging formalities. I notice that Madge has packed herself a nice, sufficient lunch today—a sandwich and a handful of dried figs. Figs don't grow here, of course, but it's one of the many delicacies her father is allowed, him being the mayor and all.

I try not to look at her sandwich too enviously, but my stomach is empty and I feel that recognizable sensation of it trying to digest itself. There were a handful of times when I wasn't able to bring my lunch when Madge would discreetly slip me part of hers without my asking or her offering. I suppose that I should have been grateful, but the act only succeeded at making me feel inadequate. Madge must have sensed this, too, as it doesn't happen anymore.

I remind myself of the roasted squirrel I could be devouring right now, and my brows draw together as I think of my last hunting trip with Gale. I had shot three of them, clean in the eyeball like always. However, upon skinning them Gale insisted the the bald patches on their skin and dull coat must be the symptom of a serious illness. After much bickering, I ended up burying them in a shallow hole in the woods. It didn't help that the number of squirrels and rabbits seemed to have been decreasing over the past few weeks. We both went home both hungry and angry that day and haven't spoken since.

I let out an audible sigh when I realize how bad things have gotten between us.

"My father misses your strawberries," Madge offers. I look up when I realize that she's speaking to me. It's surprising, considering that more often that not we don't make an effort to hold a conversation. Her blue eyes meet mine peculiarly, and I realize that it is her attempt to cheer me up. All I know is that I must have looked pretty down if she's actually discussing something as dull as strawberries with me.

"Another six weeks or so. That's when they'll begin to ripen," I tell her.

"I'll tell Father."

It was a nice attempt, but it only reminds me of those sweet, red berries that only bloom in late spring and summer. Gale and I would always eat more than we picked. On a hot summer afternoon, they were the best. We'd laugh and joke around as we picked them off the vine and ate them right there in the patch. They were always best straight off the vine. I think of Gale, realizing how those days are long gone. I miss him even though I still see him almost every day.

My stomach lets out a loud rumble as I bite into my apple, and Madge tries hard to ignore it. I turn my attention away from the blonde-haired girl sitting across from me, my eyes landing on a hearty loaf of bread being broken between it's table's inhabitants. Peeta Mellark is tearing generous pieces off of the large loaf and handing them around the table of merchant's kids. The bread looks heavy and filling, and even from across the room I can see the hodgepodge of nuts and berries baked into it's hearty crust. Oh, how I longed to be a merchant's kid right now, sitting between Peeta Mellark and Delly Cartwright, happily snacking on pieces of the baker's bread.

I stare longingly at the loaf when I feel a pair of blue eyes on me, and blush when I realize Peeta had just caught site of me ogling his bread. He stares at me curiously for a second before glancing down at the bread that he holds in his hands. I quickly tear my gaze away from him, swinging my leg over the bench were I sit and tossing my apple core into the trashcan before waiting out the rest of the lunch period staring out the cafeteria windows.

…

I walk alone down the dirt road home from school that evening. My mother had been there as the bell rang to collect Prim. She had a bedridden patient, and needed Prim's help cleansing his bed sores. I wrinkle my nose at the thought of it.

The sun has just begun to set as I make my way through the square and a tall figure begins walking in time with me. Gale glances towards me with a friendly nod, and I find myself forcing back a smile.

"Have fun in the mines?" I ask him, recognizing his soot-covered clothing and skin. Field trips to the mines are a regular thing as you near the end of school. Since Gale's 18, he's already going down a few times a week to train. They don't waste any time in training new miners, and in a few months, school will be over and he'll be sent directly to work full-time in the mines. The thought of him going down in the same place where our fathers were killed frightens me, even though it will mean more money for his family.

"A blast," he says. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

I smile at the easy conversation that has taken place between us.

"Elevator got stuck after we came up for lunch and they let us out early," he goes on.

"Lucky," I say. "So what are you doing back here?"

"Made a trade at the Hob and thought I'd see you home," he says, taking a hold of my wrist and veering me off to walk down the alley which runs behind the business district. I stare at him confused until he reaches for something inside his jacket. "Happy birthday, Catnip," he says, placing a hunting knife into my hands. I marvel at the object's craftsmanship—a steel blade with a finely carved maple handle. Though the used knife has a noticeable patina, I can see that the blade has been freshly sharpened. It feels smooth and comfortable in my hands, much nicer than any new knife ever could.

I'm at a loss for words at his gesture. "Gale..." I finally stutter. "Thank you, but my birthday isn't for another week." The thought that he had actually bought me a gift was odd. We do acknowledge one another's birthdays, though we're never in a position to buy each other gifts. Usually Gale will do something nice for me on my special day, like skin the squirrels or retrieve the arrows from my missed shots, but he's never gotten me an actual present before.

"I figured you'd need it now," he says with a grin and I smile back as I slide it into the belt and hide it behind my jacket. It's not illegal to carry knives, but it also doesn't sit well with the Peacekeepers to be walking around brandishing one in town.

After walking for a few minutes in silence Gale finally speaks.

"Things have been bad, Catnip."

I nod as I look forward. "I just hate how everything between us changed after..." But I still can't say what I intended to. "I didn't want anything to change," I admit.

I wanted him to say that we'd forget what happened so everything can be semi-happy and normal again. I wanted him to tell me that our friendship was stronger than the distance that we had put between ourselves. Of course, he didn't say any of these things.

"The thing is that it did," Gale says, not bothering to meet my gaze. "We crossed a boundary that day. There's nothing we can say or do that changes that."

"I wish that it had never happened," I say, placing my face into the palms of my hands. "I was stupid, and I really wish I wouldn't have been. We were so delusional to think that we could snap back from something like that. You're my friend, Gale. You'll never be anything but," I say, my chest suddenly feeling a bit heavy. "And we blew it."

Gale glances at me, and for once I can't tell what he's thinking. He walks silently for a few moments before speaking again. "You didn't feel anything?" he finally asks.

"No. Of course I didn't! I started feeling sorry for myself, and that's when things went so horribly wrong." I didn't want him to go thinking that I had fallen in love with him just because of the fact that we'd slept together. If giving him my virginity didn't already ruin our friendship, my thinking that there could ever be something more between us now most certainly would.

"Well," Gale finally says, clearing his throat. "Let's make a pact, shall we? No more awkwardness. No more not talking about it. What happened, happened. We'll get past it...eventually," he promises.

I nod because, really, it is the only thing we can do.

"We need to hunt. Tomorrow," I say and he nods. It'd been a bad couple of weeks. As our friendship suffered, so had the number of kills we had been bringing in. I was hungry, and there was only one way to fix that.

"Have you been eating?" he asks, almost as if he'd just been reading my mind.

I nod, grimacing when my stomach growls at the exact same time.

Gale shoots me a curious look. "We'll go out first thing tomorrow. This time I'll let you keep your bald squirrels."

I smile, adjusting my backpack and suddenly remembering the small lump of cheese I had stashed there. My stomach rolls slightly at the thought of it, and I quickly withdraw it from my pack and place it into Gale's hands. "A gift...from Prim," I lie. I know that if he knew it was meant for me, he would never accept it, but if I have to look at it again I'm in danger of puking.

"Cheese," I say as he goes to unwrap it, hoping he'll spare me the agony of having to see it again. Of course, that doesn't work. With a smile, he dips his pinky finger—probably the only clean appendage on his body right now—down into the cheese before sucking it off and wrapping the remainder up for his brothers and sister.

"Thank her for me."

I nod, but I can feel the color quickly draining from my face. I'm not even sure why I find the goat cheese I used to love so revolting right now, but I struggle to hold back a dry heave as I swallow hard to keep from vomiting. I advert my eyes to the ground when I feel Gale's large hand come to clasp over my forehead. I look up at him as he pulls it away, frowning.

"You okay there? You look awful pale."

"F-fine," I stutter as I try to keep from throwing up the little amount of food that is actually left in my stomach. "Something I ate," I offer.

"What _did _you eat?" he asks me, disbelievingly. It was obvious to both of us that I hadn't had much at all to eat lately.

"An apple."

"An apple?" His brows draw together. "From where?"

"The Capitol," I tell him, a smile pulling at the corners of my lips. "I thought it was awful thoughtful of them to send it. It tasted kinda funny, though. And now I'm deaf in one ear-"

"Ha ha," he fakes laughter at my answer.

"And I walk with a limp now," I go on, dragging my right leg behind me slightly.

"Okay, Catnip. I overreacted that day. We'll make up for it tomorrow though," he promises as we part ways and I walk back towards the empty house I share with my mother and Prim.

I find that she's left a covered pot simmering on the stove top and something wrapped for me on the table. I lift the cover on the pot and find dandelion stew, one of my mother's specialties this time of year. It doesn't taste bad, but I've never found it too filling and I eat two bowls of it without a second thought. I drop my spoon into my empty bowl with a clang and unwrap the package sitting in the center of a table and almost wretch right then.

Goat cheese.

Inside there is a little note from my sister, but I don't have time to read it before bolting outside of the house to throw up over the railing of our broken porch. I watch the dandelion stew I had just eaten collect into a puddle before standing up to wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt, my entire body feeling weak. I give myself a moment to recuperate before going back inside to rinse my mouth out with water before collapsing wearily onto my bed.

The cramping, the nausea, the fatigue, my long-awaited period which chose not to make an appearance.

I think I know what this is. I'm just not sure that I want to accept it.


	4. Chapter 4

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 4_

Over the next few weeks, I spend my mornings hunting with Gale before school while trying to ward off my constant nausea that only seems to have worsened over the past few days. Things are going more smoothly between us now, but I can't help but to think that something must be affecting the wildlife surrounding our district. We are bringing in less rabbits now, even though spring is the season when they are usually so abundant. There are still squirrels, but they seem to be skinnier than they used to, emaciated almost. I contribute the decline in wildlife to other hunters, even though we very rarely hear of anyone else sneaking beyond the fence to poach.

Gale, of course, has different ideas about the situation.

"I told you there was something going on out here!" he roars early one Sunday afternoon as we pack up our meager load. "It was only a few weeks ago that we had more game than we knew what to do with, and now we're bringing home two rabbits and three scrawny squirrels to be divided among eight people."

"Gale, calm down," I try to soothe him again. "These things happen. Sometimes the rabbit population drops. We've been hunting here a lot over the past few years, it's likely that we are to blame for this-"

"This big of a drop come suddenly after four years of hunting?" Gale asks, unconvinced. He sinks down onto the ground and sighs loudly. I do the same, patting him on his shoulder comfortingly in an effort to calm him down a little. It's too easy for him to lose his temper over something like this, and that will only make matters worse. I understand why he's upset, but I also know that ranting about it will do nothing to help our situation. "Look at you, Katniss. I know that you're hungry, and I can tell you've already thinned down some."

I look down because he's right. I've taken off some weight over the past few weeks, but only because of all of the vomiting I'm too scared to let him know about. "It's only because I put on some extra weight earlier this spring when things were better," I try to tell him.

"That's supposed to make me feel better? You were healthy, and now you're deprived," he says in disgust. "I hate rationing out meals for my brothers and sister every evening. I hate telling them no when I know they're still hungry. Letting Posy cry herself to sleep at night because her stomach won't stop growling. They're kids, Katniss. And all I can do is sit back and watch them suffer."

There's not much I can say to that, because it's an ongoing problem throughout the district, and he's not blowing anything out of proportion with his words.

"We have enough for tonight," I point out. "We'll trade the squirrels for bread and bring the rabbits home to make stew. We don't have a surplus, but it will keep our families fed for today. We'll just have to hunt more. We can make it through this, Gale."

"The baker would be crazy to give us more than half a stale roll for one of those scrawny things," he scowls, but the baker has been known to be very generous with his trades with us.

I twist the cap off of my canteen and urge Gale to drink before pulling the handful of crackers I'd been saving from my bag and offering him one. They are stale and tasteless, but I've taken to carrying a few with me since they are the only things that seem to help ward off my constant nausea. Gale bites into one and frowns.

"Would be better with goat cheese," he says, but I'm glad that I have none on hand to share with him.

I take a drink of water and start to think that I may have had too much when I feel it start to rise back up in my throat. Gale stares at me when my eyes begin to tear as I try desperately to choke back the impending nausea. I don't have time to pardon myself with the excuse of having to pee as I usually do, and instead bolt behind a tall nearby bush before heaving. My stomach is near empty today, and the only thing that I manage to bring up is the water and part of my cracker. It stings my throat and makes me feel just awful.

I hear Gale call after me as I heave a few more times before wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my hunting jacket. He's standing beside me now, softly tracing circles my back with the palm of his hand as I remain bent over with my hands braced on my knees, waiting to vomit again. Soon, my stomach finally settles itself and I stand to meet his worried gaze.

"You're sick." I can hear the distinct tone of concern in his voice and I hate it.

"I'm fine."

"You are not fine, I just watched you throw up everything in your stomach. You can't blame it on something you ate this time, because it's plain to see that you haven't eaten anything." He seems almost angry, but I don't feel well and the last thing I want to do is explain myself. Not with the overwhelming fear of pregnancy looming over me.

"I feel queasy. It's just a bug I picked up from one of my mother's patients. It happens."

Being the oldest of four siblings, I'm certain Gale is familiar with the signs of pregnancy. I've done my best to hide them from him since I'm not certain what this is yet. I've been contributing my recent illness to the stress that came with our falling out. However, Gale and I made amends two weeks ago, and my symptoms have only progressed since then.

Gale gathers our things quickly and wraps his free arm around my waist, directing me back towards the district. The feeling of his hands on me in an almost intimate way makes me feel awkward and reminds me of that day in the meadow. That irresponsible day in the meadow when nothing other than the fact that we were together seemed to matter. A vision of him moving atop me as I breathe heavy into his ear flashes in my memory, causing me to duck away from him.

"What are you doing?" I ask him, quickly pulling myself from his grasp.

"Helping you walk." I hate the look of hurt on his face and the fact that I had snapped so irritably at him.

"I'm nauseous, not crippled," I point out a little too harshly. I feel sick and exhausted and I can't seem to control my temper today. _Another sign of pregnancy_, the little voice inside my head mocks, and I mentally tell it to shut up.

After trading the squirrels for a small-but-dense loaf of bread and halving it, I'm surprised when Gale actually sees me to my house instead of veering off as we near his own. I don't object, only because I'm too exhausted from all of the walking around today to say anything about it. He pushes open the screen door that leads into our kitchen and sits me down at the table.

"Where does your mother keep the thermometer?" he asks, dropping his load.

"Gale-" I begin to object.

"Where's she keep it, Katniss?" he quickly interjects.

"The cabinet above the basin."

He retrieves one of my mother's glass thermometers and places it under my tongue after giving it a good shake. My gag reflex objects, but we manage to finally get a reading from the thing.

"No fever," he says before rinsing it off and placing it back into it's case.

"Can I go lie down now?" I ask him wearily. "I'm tired and I have a headache."

He nods before seeing me to the bedroom and pulling the blanket up to my chest, staring down at me apprehensively. I roll my eyes. "You can go, Gale," I finally tell him when I realize that he's not sure whether or not he should leave me alone. "I don't like that you're fussing over me." I don't, because it makes me feel weak and needy and he's never bothered to before.

"Sorry for caring," he mutters before turning to leave.

Unfortunately, there's no ignoring my symptoms anymore, and after a short nap, I root through my mother's large collection of medical books looking for an answer. She has a good collection of them—ones she'd taken from her parent's apothecary shop as well as ones she'd collected the information for herself. I flip open to a page on pregnancy and begin to take in the symptoms.

Madge once told me that in the Capital they have pregnancy tests that swab the inside of your mouth and give you a reading within seconds. Everything from the baby's gender to the paternity (because apparently this is a common problem among ladies in the Capital). We don't really have such luxuries here in the Seam. The wealthier people in town can afford a basic pregnancy test that you urinate on, but they are too expensive for us, so my mother often helps patients track their symptoms to confirm pregnancy.

_Right now, the odds of this being something other than pregnancy are not in my favor_, I think as I channel Effie Trinket.

Light bleeding, delayed menstruation, mood swings, tender breasts, fatigue, nausea, headaches, frequent urination, and food aversions. Seven out of ten, I note. Frowning, I reach up to touch my left breast and grimace at the soreness. Make that eight out of ten.

The front door of our home pops open in an instant and I slam the book I hold in my hands shut with a loud clap, startling both my sister and mother. They exchange a curious glance before moving inside to begin preparing dinner.

"Good to see you home, Katniss," my mother remarks in a pleasant voice.

"I killed a rabbit," I offer. "And we have bread."

She nods as she fills a stock pot with water and lights the fire on the stove before beginning to help me gather her books up off of the table. "Doing a little research, are we?"

"Studying up on my herbs," I mutter, but it's plain to see that I wasn't looking at the book of medicines. She doesn't question it though, and offers me a peculiar smile as I help her organize the books back on their shelf.

"Are you feeling okay, sweetheart?" she asks me. "You look a bit tired today."

"Fine. Better, anyways. I was a bit sick earlier, but I feel better now that I've slept," I assure her, but she doesn't say anything in reply. I know that my mother can tell that something is up with me. She can see that a person is sick just by looking at them, whether their symptoms are visible or not. I guess being in the business of healing all of her life is thanks to that.

I go to lie down right after dinner. Having something in my stomach helps, but I can only imagine how long it will actually stay down. It's bad enough that there's not enough to eat without the fact that I can't seem to keep any of it from coming back up. I think of all of the perfectly acceptable food that had been wasted this week thanks to my nausea.

I start to think about my probable pregnancy and how Gale will react when I tell him. I guess I have to, considering he will figure it out on his own before long. I can't exactly hide his child from him after all. I wonder if he will feel angry? I know that he won't be happy about more responsibility now that times are tough and he's struggling as it is to feed his little brothers and sister. Throwing an unwanted baby into the mix sure won't help matters.

Curiously, I run my hand over my abdomen, but feel only smooth skin there. According to Mother's books, I shouldn't get a belly until about three months or later if I am pregnant. I think I should be able to hide it until then, though I know waiting to tell everyone won't make this any easier. I just know that I can't tell Gale, not right now with the way things are. He's overstressed the way it is. Maybe it will all get better, I tell myself. Maybe we'll have better luck on our hunting trips from now on. I know that it's all wishful thinking though.

I cover my face with my hands and sigh because I have no clue how to handle this all.


	5. Chapter 5

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 5_

The next few days come and go, and I begin to feel as if I am starting to get a handle on controlling my vomiting. I do have to admit that it's becoming more and more difficult to hide this all from Gale. A large part of me wants to tell him, wants to ease some of the burden off myself. I feel like I'm doing this alone, which I pretty much am. I don't doubt that Gale will stand up to his responsibility when and if the time comes. That's just the type of person he is.

I guess the worst part is trying to wretch in secret when we are in the woods together. I usually use the excuse that I have to pee, which works since he always gives me my privacy. Unfortunately, I really _do _have to pee a lot now, and Gale has come to believe either I am drinking way too much or have an incompetent bladder.

"You're floating again, Catnip," he says to me one day after I return from behind the bush for the fifth time that morning. "I don't know what you've been drinking, but I think maybe it's time to cut back."

I blow off the comment with a laugh, blaming it on the tea we had been drinking.

Today we are spending our time shooting doves, which we don't often do. While roasted dove is delicious, you have to shoot a whole lot of them to get a substantial amount of meat, which is why we usually go for the bigger game like pheasants, rabbits, and squirrels. But with the decline in all three, we opt for spending our morning bringing down the smaller prey.

I have a whole bag of them by mid-afternoon, but I've lost almost all of my arrows as well. Smaller birds are hard to hit, and many of my arrows go flying into the woods never to be seen from again. Gale does manage to retrieve a few, but almost all end up being bent beyond repair.

But we're in good spirits today and I'm not feeling too badly either. I'm being careful about my eating habits. Though there still isn't enough to go around, I am sure to keep a little bit down at all times to keep myself from getting too sick. I've learned that trying to go on an empty stomach almost always results in feeling queasy. Right now, I am tired, but my stomach is calm. It's all that I can ask for.

Knowing that we have enough for now at least, Gale and I find ourselves walking along, chatting happily since we're finished hunting for the day, when the sound of something struggling in the grass forces us to stop. His eyes meet mine apprehensively before we both notch an arrow into our bowstring and move ahead with precaution. I can hear a low growl coming from the tall grass in front us, and I know it is the sound of a lynx.

They're usually very skittish, and left unprovoked, tend not to attack. But I can tell by the sound that this one is making that it has been badly injured. Gale and I slowly step forward to see the lynx lying in the grass on her side, her tongue hanging form her mouth as she pants hard. The animal is on the edge of death, and appears to be completely paralyzed and unable to move. But the part I cannot manage to tear my gaze from is the bright green foam that clings to her mouth and tongue. I can feel all of the blood drain from my face at the realization. In an instant, Gale's worst fear has been confirmed—there's most definitely something spreading through the wildlife here, and it is both unnatural and deadly.

I look down at the bow I still hold in my hand, and without a second thought, put the animal out of her misery.

…

Gale and I don't say much to each other after what we'd just witnessed. We walk back quietly towards his house, and I find that I'm much too upset to go home by myself. Mother and Prim are in town picking up more medical supplies, and for some reason, I just don't feel like being left alone right now.

I can hear the kids laughing and squealing as we near his front porch, and find the object that Rory, Vick, and Posy are all fawning over. A medium-sized dog is licking their faces, and his entire emaciated body is shaking as his tail wags wildly. With a dull silver coat, thin skin stretched tightly over his ribcage, cloudy eyes, and a long, skinny take that goes between his legs as I approach him, this animal might be the ugliest creature I've ever seen in my entire life. Except for Buttercup, of course.

But to Gale's two brothers and sister, he's a regal canine.

"What do we have here?" Gale asks with a smile, sinking down to his knees to scratch the dog's ears. I move to do the same, but he quickly backs away from me in fear. I guess I've never really been much of an animal person.

"He's a dog and Rory found him," Posy informs in her sweet, high-pitched voice. "We're gonna name him Rocky and let him sleep in the house."

Gale and I look up as the front door creaks open and see that Hazelle is stepping out onto the porch, shaking her head as she wipes her hands on her apron. "Rory found him wandering around the old warehouse. Apparently someone dumped him off there because they couldn't feed him anymore. They begged and begged, but I told them they'd have to ask you."

Gale's eyes meet his mother's, and I can see a bit of contempt there: He doesn't want to be the bad guy.

"He's a good dog, and maybe you can teach him how to hunt," Rory offers hopefully, though I'm sure Gale is thinking the same thing I am: There's no way that mangy thing could ever hunt anything. "We can water him and feed him every day. He won't be very much trouble," the boy pleas.

Gale sighs a bit before standing back up. "I know, and I know you guys would take really good care of him," he begins softly. "But he's a big dog. As much as I'd love to let you guys keep him as a pet, there's just not enough to feed him right now."

"But Prim has a cat," Vick points out. "They feed him the leftovers they can't eat."

"A cat eats a lot less than a dog this size," Gale informs them. "You three know I'd let you keep this dog if we could, but there's not enough food to go around as it is. We just can't afford another mouth to feed right now."

The kids begin to cry, except for Rory who only looks like he's on the verge of tears. I can feel my heart sink at their reaction of having to give up their already beloved pet, especially as I think of Prim and how attached she is to Buttercup. It's almost too much for me to bear. I'm not sure if it's the upset kids or the realization of what Gale had just said, but I find myself stifling a sob as his words echo in my mind:

_We just can't afford another mouth to feed right now._

Gale quickly leans down to lift his tiny sister up into his embrace in an effort to comfort her, and she wraps her scrawny arms around his neck as she weeps uncontrollably in his arms. Watching the act finally sends me over the edge, and my eyes tear with emotion as I find myself choking awkwardly on a sob of my own. It must be loud enough to stand out amongst the children's, because when I look up, Gale is staring at me strangely.

"Hey, he can stay the night inside, okay?" he tells his younger siblings, glancing up at me just in time to witness a tear slip down my cheek. I quickly turn my back away from the heart-wrenching scene taking place in front of me as I work hastily to wipe away the evidence that I've been crying. "Give you a chance to say good-bye before we find him a new home." The offer does little to cheer them up, but they accept.

Their cries finally begin to die down a little once Hazelle calls them in to eat.

"You okay?" I feel Gale's hand on my shoulder once the children are back inside with the dog. I just shrug, because obviously everything isn't fine, but I know that trying to talk about it with him will send me into another fit of sobs. Exhaling a slight breath, he holds my face in his hands, and his concerned gray eyes stare into mine as he tries to decipher whatever is going on in my head right now. But I'm not even sure I know that myself.

I think that I've cried in front of Gale twice in the past four years that I've known him. The first was when I was 13 years old. We'd been hunting in the woods all day to come back and find that the electricity in the fence had been turned back on. Unable to squeeze under the hole in the chain link without the risk of getting fried, we were forced to spend the night outside in the wilderness together. Over the course of the next seven hours, I had convinced myself that the electricity would never be turned back off and that we'd never see our families again.

The second was when I twisted my ankle. It was the most intense pain I had ever endured in my entire life. I couldn't walk or even move my foot. I was in agony, but I vividly remember Gale lifting me up from the ground and carrying me back to my mother. He even stuck around until I was feeling better, and kept me company until I was able to walk again three days later.

But there was no real excuse for my tears right now. None that I can tell him about anyway.

"I-" I choke out. "I just feel bad for the kids," I offer. Because I did feel bad for them, but that was only half of the truth. The other half was that in several more months, I was going to make everyone else's lives a lot more difficult than this dog ever could.

I feel pathetic standing there front of him, tears streaming down my cheeks as my face scrunches up in that ugly way that it does when I'm really upset. Gale shushes me quietly as he pulls me against his rigid chest, encircling my body with his long arms. Just like the only other time he'd really held me like this, I'm aware of how small I am in his arms. How weak and fragile I must appear to him, which maybe I am right now. "It's okay, Katniss," he soothes in my ear, but I can tell by his tone that he is utterly confused by my breakdown. I don't cry, and I'm not an emotional person, especially about animals. But I still take the time to relish in his warm embrace as my tears soak into his knitted shirt. I know that he can't even begin to understand the real reason why I'm so upset, since the only one carrying this burden right now is me.

Gale takes me into his home and pours me a warm mug of tea as I try to settle myself. Before I even realize what's happening, there's a steaming bowl of stew before me, and I'm eating dinner with his family. My hand shakes unsteadily as I try to eat with as much finesse as possible, but my stomach is so empty that I feel like I'm on the verge of passing out. I catch Gale and his mother exchanging a worried glance as I finish my meal in silence. Soon my bowl is empty, my shaking has subsided, and I feel guilty for having eaten their food.

"Don't worry about it, Catnip," he assures me afterwards, but I still make sure to give him a few extra doves so that the guilt won't eat me alive tonight. After seeing me back to my house, Gale's large hands clasp gently on my shoulders as I stare back at him self-consciously. "I don't know what's going on with you, but I really wish that you'd just tell me."

But I _can't _tell him, not after everything that's happened today.

…

It's late in the evening before my mother returns home with Prim, who passes by me without saying a single word and then shuts herself into the bedroom. My mother sighs as she begins to replenish her medical supplies.

"What happened?" I ask my mother, noting the hint of sadness in her eyes.

"We lost a patient today."

"Roxy?" I ask in surprise, since the last I'd heard, she was going to have a baby.

Mother shakes her head. "The baby. She'd been expecting for awhile and miscarried today. You're sister is incredibly upset about it."

I nod in understanding. Losing any patient, no matter their ailment or age, always comes as a blow to Prim. She's young, and although she has an incredible talent for healing, doesn't deal with death very well. I feel bad for her, and know that this loss will probably affect her for awhile.

"I thought Roxy was pretty far along," I say uneasily. I'm usually not that curious about Mother's patients, but Roxy's case hit too close to home for me. Another unplanned pregnancy.

"Three and a half months," my mother informs me. "But her family couldn't keep food on the table the way it was. Without the energy and nutrition her body needed, it just wasn't ready to carry a baby to term."

My mother sends me a sideways glance as I stand silently watching her organize her medical supplies. I've zoned out at her words. Roxy's miscarriage may have been a blessing in disguise. One less mouth to feed, one less child's name to be chosen from the Reaping bowl.

"Katniss," my mother says as she pulls me in front of her by my elbows, but my mind is still fixated on the news she'd just given me. "I know you haven't been feeling well lately..." she begins, treading lightly around the subject. "Throwing up and feeling tired. If there's something—anything at all—that you would like to tell me, I'd really like to hear it." My attention snaps back to my mother as I stare blankly into her knowing eyes.

This would be my opportunity to get this off of my chest, to confide in someone who could possibly help me through it. My mother knows what's wrong, I'm certain of it. I've been acting too strangely lately for her not to have noticed. A part of me wants to tell her everything, about Gale and my pregnancy and how I'm too scared to do this. But another still doesn't trust the woman who checked-out and left her two daughters to starve only four years ago. I think about the nature of Roxy's miscarriage and decide that maybe there's nothing to tell.

I shake my ahead. "No. Everything is fine," I say in a daze as I walk towards the bedroom to check on my sister. It was time to face the hard facts about life in the Seam: With the way things are right now, I know I'll most likely lose this baby before my second trimester.

Gale may never even have to know the truth.

Early the next morning we meet in our usual spot to hunt before school. "I let the kids keep the dog," he informs me, glancing at me to see my reaction.

I look ahead as we walk further into the woods and nod. "Good," is all that I can say, because there is nothing else for me to tell him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 6_

After weeks of endless hunting just to get by, I find myself missing the Hob. After frequenting there since I was just a little girl sitting on Sae's counter as my father bargained for a decent trade, it's strange that I have not stepped foot in the place in over three weeks. But this evening I have something to barter with—a stack of rabbit pelts. One pelt isn't worth much, but six can get you something. They've taken almost a week and a half to dry, and I know that even in the spring rabbit pelts are a desirable trade if the price is set right.

My entrance into the old abandoned warehouse-turned-black market is met with smiles and greetings from the regulars. Darius is leaning on Greasy Sae's counter, chatting up one of the local girls as he usually does. Sae is stirring a giant steaming pot of something, offering me a semi-toothless grin as she ladles some of her stew into a bowl and sets it on top of the counter in front of me, some of it sloshing over the rim in the process.

"Thank you, but I'm here for a trade only," I tell her, but she shrugs off the idea of my paying for it. Probably something that's about to go bad, I note as I sip my soup from the spoon. It tastes a tad bit too gamey, but it's warm and filling and once I stop my mind from wondering about where she'd gotten the meat from, it goes down easily.

"Where've you been, girl?" she asks me as she uses a dirty clothe to wipe off her even dirtier counter top. "I'm about to go out of business without your trades."

I let out a light sigh at her comment. "That's because there's nothing _to _trade," I offer without going into the entire story of the sick animals surrounding District 12. I'm not even certain if it's a good idea that word gets out about what Gale and I have seen over the past month when we're not sure the extent of the problem quite yet or how to handle it.

"Well that explains a lot," Darius goes on as he turns his attention away from his lady friend.

"What exactly might that be?" I ask him.

"Why Gale was in here a few weeks ago with a box of his father's old things, trying to trade them for some dirty, worn knife. Asked him why he didn't have any game, but he didn't answer. He really wanted to get his hands on that old thing, though."

I sit up straighter, my brows knitting together. "What did he trade?"

Darius shrugs. "I don't know. Some old literature, it looked like."

Gale's father once owned an entire collection of old books he loved reading to Gale and his brothers when they were young. They were Gale's prized possessions, but he ended up having to sell a few when times got a little too rough. They were never worth much, except for the sentimental value, but it almost killed him to let them go when he had to. The rest were put up on a shelf somewhere in their house, and Gale had sworn he'd never have to sell one again. Of course, that was back when things were still good.

"He didn't," I say uneasily, Darius not quite understanding how much the books had meant to Gale.

"Traded five or six of 'em for that poor excuse for a knife," Darius goes on.

My hand automatically goes to the treasured hunting knife tucked into a sheath on my belt. My mind is spinning right now, and I can't even fathom why Gale would do such a thing. It wasn't as if I were expecting a gift from him. No doubt that I needed a new knife, but it wasn't his responsibility to buy me one. In an instant, I realize how much thought had gone into this gift.

"Didn't seem too unhappy with the trade. He left here grinning like a fool."

Instantly my mind goes back to the events of that night a few weeks ago. How Gale had stopped off at the Hob on his way back from the mines. How he'd walked all the way back to the school to see me home and give me the gift. How he'd asked me if that day in the meadow had made me feel anything... Was he thinking about me more than a friend? My first instinct tells me no, that he would never think of me in that way. But Gale was being awful considerate of me lately, what with nursing my sickness and offering me a shoulder to cry on. Not that he had much of a choice in the latter.

I snap out of my thoughts as Darius tilts his head and grins at me oddly, and I realize a smile has spread over my face. "Quite chipper today, are we? Don't get your hopes up, Katniss. I won't trade pelts for a kiss. Have no use for 'em."

"Shut up, Darius," I chortle back at his usual joke of a come on, causing him to turn his attention back to the young lady at his side.

After trading my stack of rabbit pelts for three coins and bidding farewell to Greasy Sae, I head out. The money jingles loudly in my otherwise empty pockets, reminding me that Gale had snared most of the rabbits and should get his cut. It's late, but I know that he is probably still awake and may need the money sooner than later.

The sun has already set as I make my way out of the side door of the Hob and around the back of the building. The hushed sound of people whispering catches my attention and I stop at the corner of the old warehouse as my eyes attempt to adjust to the lack of light. A husky voice breaks the silence followed by a feminine giggle, and I realize that I recognize the male's voice. My eyes zone in on a couple standing in the shadows so closely together that it's almost impossible to realize they are not one. A tall, dark-haired man wraps a petite blonde in his arms as they kiss casually. I soon realize that the girl is Athena Russel, a busty merchant's daughter who is only a year older than myself. But I can feel my chest tighten when I realize the arms of the boy she is currently wrapped in belong to Gale.

My face falls as I watch him cup her cheek in his hand while whispering something into her ear, his lips brushing lightly against her neck as he does so. I can feel my entire body shaking as their lips close in on one another's once again, and I quietly begin to step backwards as the loose rock and coal debris crunches under the soles of my boots. Not wanting to be caught spying on them, or stand there watching the young lovers for even a split-second more, I bolt.

My feet carry me away from the Seam quickly. My chest is heaving as I run through the darkness and towards the edge of town. I don't even realize where I'm going until I am already in the meadow, running towards the electric fence that borders the district. I search hysterically for the opening in the barrier, and without waiting to listen for the hum of electricity, I dive through it. Luckily, it isn't on.

I collapse in a heap right there in the dirt as I burst into tears. I'm crying hysterically as my knuckles pound with rage against the hardened ground, bloodying them in the process. But I don't feel the pain of my flesh being torn. I don't feel the burn of bile rising in my throat, either, as I begin to heave right there on the ground in front of me. I'm choking, coughing a I wretch onto the forest floor on which I kneel.

I'm stupid. How could I be so stupid? Gale has so many girls that want him. Just because I slept with him one time won't change that. If there's anything between us, it's the fact that we are helping to keep each other's families alive. It's a friendship of convenience and nothing more.

I curl into a ball right there and never plan on moving again, even though Gale and I know better than to go beyond the fence after dark. And right now I am paying no attention to my own safety, as my defenses are down, I'm crying more loudly than I ever have, and I wreak of blood and vomit. It's a wonder nothing's come along to kill me yet, though I'm so dispirited I would almost welcome the certain death from a ferocious predator.

I stay there for a good while, crouched on the ground and hugging my knees against my torso as I bawl. It seems like hours have passed before I move from my position on the ground. Eventually, I've shed all the tears I'm capable of, and I'm just too exhausted to cry anymore. The only thought that keeps me going through this all is the probability of my impending miscarriage and the fact that I may never have to deal with the huge secret that I'm carrying, the secret that could destroy both Gale and my families.

And as much as I know that I want to, I can't hate Gale for what he did. I can't hate him for believing me when I told him that I felt nothing for him and then moving on. I can't expect him to put his life on hold because maybe someday I might be able to feel something close to resembling love for him. But more than anything, I can't expect that he would ever be able to love a person like me in the first place.

The district is dark and quiet when I finally walk myself home, arms curled around my body as I shiver in the cool night air. Mother and Prim are already asleep when I arrive home, and I change into my nightgown before crawling in bed with my sister. That night, dreams of Gale turning away both myself and his unborn child to run away with Athena into the wilderness plague me. It's an insane dream to have, I realize, since Athena would not make it 20 feet beyond the electric fence before twisting her ankle and being mauled by some wild, ravenous animal. That and the fact that Gale will never even know that he was once almost a father.

The next morning, my chest still feels tight, but I can't let Gale know that anything's happened. That, even though he's not aware of it, everything between us has changed. The best I can do is go on with my life and hope that this all goes away on its own. More wishful thinking on my part, I soon realize.

That morning as we're picking newly-ripened strawberries out in the patch, I try not to let them remind me of the strawberry lips of Athena Russel kissing Gale behind the Hob the night before. Maybe my emotions are getting the best of me today, because I eventually forget that we are picking strawberries to sell to the mayor and instead begin to eat every last one that I pull from the vine. But it's been so long since I've had any, they're unbelievably sweet, and somehow strangely comforting.

"Whoa there, Catnip," Gale says to me when he realizes I have a whole seven strawberries sitting in my basically empty bag and my lips are covered in their juice. "Have a bit of an appetite today?"

I realize that it's a joke, but I glare at my hunting companion nonetheless. "So now I'm not allowed to eat them anymore?" I snap, and his brows draw together in confusion. I know that deep down I'm much more angry about something else right now, but I'm directing that anger towards his attempt at a little playful banter. A frown is still etched in my features as Gale's mouth gapes.

"Katniss, I didn't mean-" he begins, but it's still early in the morning and I can feel all of the strawberries I've just stuffed in my mouth wanting to make another appearance.

"I have to pee," I cut him off. Still irritated, I dump my bag to the ground hastily and stomp my way down the hill a bit and behind some brush. It doesn't take long to bring the berries back up, as I've become somewhat of a expert at regurgitating things over the past several weeks. But I feel guilty for having eaten them so quickly to the point that I've made myself sick when I realize all of the good food that had went to waste.

I shake my head, disgusted at myself as I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my jacket and almost jump when I realize that Gale has been leaning up against a large tree that stands behind me, watching me the entire time. His face is without expression, but there's a knowing look in his dark gray eyes.

"You were watching me?" I hoarsely ask him, appalled at his invasion of my privacy.

"You weren't peeing," he points out. Shaking my head at him in disbelief, I go to brush past him, but he grabs my arm before I can. His grip is firm, yet gentle. "You were throwing up again."

I don't say anything, because this is the moment I've been trying to avoid all along. I don't want him to put two and two together, to come to the conclusion that this is much, much more than some little stomach bug.

"You've been lying to me, haven't you?" he accuses, but all I can do is stand there looking at him guiltily, my throat still raw from all the puking. Gale uses he free hand to run his fingers through his hair as he silently contemplates what this all means. He sits on it for a few seconds before his face pales and he eases his grip on my arm. "I knew there was something going on with you, Katniss. Throwing up, snapping at me, the mood swings, stuffing your face with strawberries, _crying. _It was all there, I just can't believe it's taken me this long to figure it out."

My heart is pounding in my chest as his eyes glide over me. I'm almost afraid to ask.

"Figure out what?" I finally manage to stammer out.

"That you're pregnant."


	7. Chapter 7

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 7_

Gale's eyes are locked on mine as he awaits some sort of confirmation of his assumption. My first instinct is to tell him no, to deny everything. It's a hunch, and there's no way that he can prove that I am pregnant. I could fabricate some sort of elaborate lie, tell him that I contracted something from the deer. Tell him that I am dying. Anything would be better than the truth.

But as my mind races, I realize that I am am unwittingly shaking my head and my mouth is gaping. I have been giving myself away the entire time I've been mentally concocting this lie.

"Katniss," he says lowly with a gentle look in his eyes.

I feel cornered. I don't know what to say to him, so I do what I always do in situations that I don't know how to handle: I run. I run as quickly away from Gale as my legs will carry me. But with my mind clouded the way that it is, I'm not as agile right now as I usually am, and my foot manages to find every single root on the forest floor as I flee. I'm literally tripping my way back up the hill, my destination the fence that borders District 12. I realize that just over 12 hours ago that I was fleeing from the same person in the opposite direction. The irony.

All I know is that I don't want to be here right now. All I want to do is find a place to hide, to cry, maybe to roll up and just die. But I don't get too far away before a pair of strong arms wrap around me and Gale pulls me back against his chest. His hold on me is strong enough to keep me from breaking free, but feels surprisingly gentle as his chin rests on my shoulder. "You can't run from this one, Catnip," he whispers into my ear before turning me to face him. I burst into tears instantly.

Gale's eyes are filled with worry as he goes to draw me into a hug, but my tightly closed fists push back hard against his chest as my body begins to tremble with sobs. "Katniss...Katniss, it's going to be okay," he tries to sooth.

"It is _not_ going to be okay, Gale!" I roar. "Your brothers and sister are starving to death, all of the animals are dying off, and now I am _pregnant_!" It's the first time I've actually said the word myself, and it scares me. Before it was just an unspoken fear, but somehow by saying it, I've now made it all very real. The secret has been revealed, and now it is something that I have no choice but to deal with.

I'm still trying to wriggle free from Gale's dominating grasp as he tries desperately to calm me. He is so uncharacteristically composed about all of this, though I admit that my reaction to it all hasn't given him much of a choice in the matter. But there is still something about his demeanor that tells me maybe he has had his suspicions about my "sickness" all along.

I watch him close his eyes, pulling me tighter against him as my body finally gives in and allows him to draw me into his embrace. My fingers end up tangled tightly in the fabric of his shirt, my face buried deep within his chest as I cry all of the tears that had been pent up for the past several weeks. I can feel him inhale a large breath of air before heaving a sigh.

"I'm sorry," I finally sob into his chest. "I'm so sorry, Gale."

His hold on me tightens as I feel him bury his face in my hair.

"It's going to be okay, Catnip," he assures me again, though I can also detect an underlying uncertainty in his voice. "I swear that everything will be fine."

…

The morning passes by without us saying much to one another. Somehow, we've given up hunting and berry-picking for the day and just sit in our spot. We don't talk about it. I think that right now we are both just trying to absorb it all.

I sit back on my elbows, looking down over the rolling hills before us. I occasionally glance up to watch as Gale mindlessly carves away at the stick in his hand with his hunting knife. There seems to be something methodically settling about it for him. He grimaces a bit as he chips away at the bark, finally putting his knife down to look up at me.

"It happened two months ago," he suddenly says, and I sit up with a frown. "No...it was almost three months ago. Why didn't you tell me?" he finally asks me. "I don't understand why you didn't just tell me in the first place."

I stare at him blankly as he glowers. "You weren't going to tell me, where you?"

I fold my hands onto my lap as I stare down at them. He seems angry, but I guess he has a reason to. "I didn't want you to stress yourself over it. Things were hard enough the way it was."

Gale just shakes his head at me, because there is an obvious glitch in my reasoning. "You didn't think I would notice that you're pregnant? That you're suddenly carrying around a baby that looks like me? I know pregnant women can be irrational, but-"

"The baby won't survive," I interrupt him, and he looks shocked by my words. I instantly know what he thinks I intended to do. It's not an extremely uncommon thing for young ladies to do to themselves here in the starvation-riddled District 12 when they feel that they have no other choice. My mother had treated a couple gone wrong. I had even watched a young woman bleed to death on our kitchen table when I was still too young to understand what was happening. It wasn't until years later that I realized what she had really died from.

"No Gale, the famine," I quickly correct myself. "This baby...it won't carry to term. There's not enough for it to grow, to keep it alive. My mother's already watched a few women miscarry because of it. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't think it was necessary. I didn't want to worry you for no reason."

I watch him as he swallows hard, returning back to his whittling. "Your mother knows then?" he asks me.

"No. Well, I think that she knows, but it's nothing that I've confirmed."

His hands stop working away at the wood as he looks up at me in surprise. "She can help you though, Katniss," he points out. "She can keep you from losing the baby."

"I don't know," I admit. "The only cure for famine is food. There is no food right now, not enough anyways. Once a woman starts to miscarry, there's not really anything that can be done. Besides, I thought it would be best for everyone if I did."

"You thought that I wouldn't want this baby?" he asks me, a bit hurt at my assumption.

"Well, _do _you?" I ask him skeptically. "Do you really want another mouth to feed? Do you want to have a baby on the way when you're still of reaping age? Want me to have a baby to care for when _I'm _still of reaping age? Not to mention the fact that our families will be so disappointed in us, Gale. Do you really want them to know what we did?"

"I really don't care what they think about it," he snaps. "I never regretted it in the first place."

I sit silent for a moment, contemplating what he means. There is spite behind his words, spite directed towards me. Just when I think that we're about to start a long argument about it all, Gale puts down his knife and scoots forward, clasping my hands into his. Our eyes meet, and despite the obvious malice of his last statement, there is no anger evident in his eyes, only concern.

"I don't want you to be scared, because we can make this work," he tells me as his thumb gently caresses the back of my hand. "I'm going to work soon; we'll have more money then. You'll still have time to hunt, since they probably won't let you finish school with a baby. There's no need to either, because you shouldn't be down in the mines anyways."

"And you should?" I ask him.

"I don't have much of a choice in the matter. There's plenty of other things you can do. Do the washing like my mother does. Help your own with her apothecary business," he goes on as I chuckle sarcastically at the idea of myself getting over the gore involved of being a healer. "We can still hunt until you're too big to venture out into the woods. We'll kill what we can, and then I'll take up the slack myself. We can do this, Katniss. I know that you never wanted any of this, but it isn't the end as we know it."

I look into Gale's eyes, so serious and dedicated to his statement. He's prepared to give everything he has for this baby, while I have spent the past several weeks wishing it away. It's an obvious indication of the fact that he will make a much better parent than I ever could. That I lack greatly in the understanding and affection that he had learned by raising his own siblings.

"But, the reaping," I begin, realizing the day is only two weeks away. "How many times are you in?" I ask him.

"They won't pick me, Catnip-"

"How many, Gale?" I demand.

He sighs. "Forty-two," he says, and I grimace. "It'll be fine."

"It better, because I can't do this without you," I tell him, and his jaw clenches tightly as he nods.

"You won't have to."

"I don't want your family to suffer because of me," I go on. "I don't want Rory and Vick and Posy to go hungry because of something stupid and careless that I did."

Gale sighs as he sticks his knife back into the sheath on his belt. "I guess that you've forgotten that I had a part in this, too. That it was my idea in the first place to do it."

Now I can see the guilt in his eyes. He may have admitted that he didn't regret what we did, but it certainly hasn't stopped him from thinking of how much easier it would be if it had never happened. And of course I hadn't forgotten Gale's part in this. How on earth could I ever manage to forget? I don't tell him this though, because the words are too humiliating and awkward to say out loud.

"I still don't want anyone to suffer anymore than they already are. I don't think we should risk the lives of the kids because of one that hasn't even been born yet," I say. "Our families come first. If this baby makes it, then...well, we'll deal with it. No one suffers for what we did though, okay?"

"You're not going to lose the baby, Katniss," he states confidently. "I'm not going to say that this will be easy, but we've been through hard times before. When our fathers died, we still managed. One tiny baby isn't going to doom us all."

Gale seems so certain that everything is going to work out, so I have to ask him, "How do you know? I've been so sick, I haven't been able to keep anything down on top of the fact that there's just not enough to go around. This is the absolute worst case scenario for an expectant mother."

Gale looks at me seriously. "Genetics," he simply answers. "This baby is already like its mother. It has a strong will to survive. A need to stay alive. You've made it this far, Katniss. I'm going to see that nothing bad happens to either of you."

I feel my eyes begin to burn as Gale opens his arms for me. Without arguing, I scoot into his lap before he wraps them back around me. I feel a sense of relief to have finally shared this encumbrance, to be assured by the one person who matters that it will all work out in the end. As I close my eyes, leaning into his arms once again, I notice the faint scent of lilacs on his clothing that I had been too upset to recognize earlier. I try to ignore it until Gale takes my hands into his own.

"What happened to your knuckles?" he asks me, softly passing his fingertips over the hardened scabs on my hands.

I look up at him for a second before answering. "Lost my grip climbing a tree," I lie.

He emits a small chuckle before resting his chin on my head. "You know, you're going to have to stop climbing trees, Catnip. You're going to be a mother now."


	8. Chapter 8

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 8_

Days pass and nothing much changes for Gale and I. We still gather and hunt almost daily. The animal life surrounding the district continues to dwindle. My mother is still suspicious about my condition, dropping subtle hints such as insisting that I stop drinking so much tea because the caffeine it contains "isn't good for a growing body." Prim still seems none the wiser about everything, mostly because we haven't been able to spend a lot of time together. She keeps busy with the sickly patients that line up at our door daily due of the famine, and I'm usually out hunting with Gale when I'm not sleeping or at school. And though I've entered my second trimester of pregnancy, my morning sickness hasn't went away and I'm still just as nauseous as ever.

The only thing that has changed is that Gale is a bit softer with me when we go into the woods together. He never lets me wander too far off, and we take frequent breaks since I usually end up tiring more quickly these days. I still keep a few crackers with me along with a good supply of clean, cool water. As hard as I try not to lose any nourishment by retching, most of the time it is out of my control.

Gale has asked me numerous times since he found out if he can tell Hazelle about my pregnancy. I've declined over the past two weeks, using the reaping as an excuse. I don't want to introduce the idea of a grandchild just to die in the arena before it's even born, after all. Gale seems stressed about having a child on the way, but I can tell he's trying desperately to hide it. I think that deep down he has always wanted to be a father, but has never allowed himself to consider it a possibility considering the existence we've had to grow up in. In a way, I still haven't quite accepted that I'm going to be a mother in six months. I'm not even sure that I know how to be a mother. But for now, I'm just trying to keep my mind in the present.

Today is the reaping. Though we choose not to speak about it too much, Gale and I have been preparing for the consequences that will arise if one of us is chosen to go into the Games. This time of year is always stressful when you have a loved one of reaping age, but today is downright atrocious. To top it all off, Prim's name is in the reaping bowl for the very first time this year. It's such a slim chance that she will be chosen since she didn't sign up for tesserae, but it's still a possibility. But there's 20 times the chance that Effie Trinket will draw my name from the girl's reaping bowl today. Katniss Everdeen, the first pregnant tribute to go into the Hunger Games. To die in the Hunger Games.

"Maybe they'd let you off the hook since you're expecting," Gale says to me this morning.

"Don't think so," I reply. "If that were the case, then all the girls in the districts would be getting knocked up."

I watch as his fingers work tensely to check the snare line. I can tell this is going to be a bad day for him. He is not dealing with this year's reaping well at all, not that he ever does.

I'm more scared for the possibility that Gale's name will be drawn from the reaping bowl, what with his 42 slips of paper. I secretly hope that if one of us has to be chosen from the lottery today that it will be me. I know that Gale wishes the opposite, but if I die in the Games, our families will have a much better chance of survival than if Gale does. There will be two less mouths to feed rather than one, and I know that in a few months when I grow enormous that I'll be useless when it comes to hunting. If Gale's name is drawn, our families will most certainly starve.

After checking the snare line and coming up with one gaunt rabbit, I manage to shoot a couple of squirrels with my bow. Afterwards, we take a quick break to rest and take a drink of water from my canteen. I'm feeling shaky and tired, but I try not to let Gale notice. In the back of my mind I know that this may be the last morning that we ever spend together and I don't want to ruin it.

Gale takes a long gulp of the water and declines the tasteless cracker that I offer him. It's a tad bit hot for late spring, but I find it to be downright blistering. I guess maybe it has something to do with pregnancy and water retention. I've found myself glancing over my mother's pregnancy book when she's not around, and I've picked up all sorts of interesting facts. Most of them I'm not looking forward to.

"I guess we should start back," Gale begins. "Give us time to get all gussied up for the reaping," he says in disgust.

We part once we reach the Seam, each taking off in the direction of our home. "See you in the crowd," he mumbles. It occurs to me that this might be the last time I really get a chance to see Gale. Sure all the tributes get a final goodbye at the Justice Building before boarding the train, but it's not enough time to say everything that needs to be said to a loved one.

_A loved one._

"Gale," I begin as he starts to walk away, though I'm not even sure what I had intended on saying to him in the first place. I bite my lip awkwardly as he waits for me to speak. "Just...good luck."

He nods at me before walking away.

Prim is already dressed in my old reaping clothes when I return home, her hair in two braids at the side of her head. I scrub my hands and face clean before walking into the bedroom to find out the dress my mother had laid out for me. It hangs a tad too long for my short stature and is very tailored, causing the fabric to pull taught across my expanding waistline. I have started to show now, just a little though. It's easily hidden under my everyday clothes and is only obvious to someone who already knows that I am pregnant.

I tug uncomfortably where the fabric stretches across my belly, and my mother walks in to give me a good once over. "You look beautiful," she offers me, her eyes lingering on my midsection a bit longer than necessary. "Let's fix your hair."

My mother gives me a more mature hairstyle than the one that my sister wears, pulling sections of hair into an elaborate braid. She turns me around when she's finished, placing her hands on my shoulders and offering me a small, sad smile. "Well, look at you," she says with a sigh. "All grown up." I know what she means, but I still refuse to tell her, to say something that may upset my sister on this already nerve-racking day for her.

Before we leave for the square, I take a minute to hug Prim and assure her that everything will be okay. That tonight we'll be eating a hearty meal of stew and greens and enjoying each other's company. She seems to relax in my arms just a bit, but the words do little to settle my own anxiety.

…

I find my way towards the front of the crowd where the 16-year-olds stand in a roped-off section. I look at the kids who stand around me, faces solemn as they await for the reaping to begin. I manage to find Gale at the very front section where those who are of the oldest reaping age stand and catch his eye. He looks sad, angry, and anxious as he meets my gaze. I can tell that his jaw is clenched tightly as Major Undersee takes the stage and the usual introduction is given before he reads the story that goes into a brief history of Panem and how the Hunger Games came to be. It's the same narrative they read every year, and I know the words by heart.

Haymitch Abernathy stands slumped next to Effie at the side of the stage. He actually looks even worse for wear this year, which is saying a lot. He must have gotten an early start on the drinking this morning. I occasionally see him in town, and he's never walking steady enough to be considered sober. Interestingly enough, he's never been to my mother for any of the alcohol related illnesses one would expect a man with decades of inebriation under his belt to have.

The sun is beating down on the crowd standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the stage, and I can already feel the bile rising in my throat from skipping breakfast this morning. Part of it was nervousness, the other was just wanting to conserve our rations for this evening's celebration.

If there's anything to celebrate this evening, of course.

"Lady's first," Effie begins as usual, stepping forward to the large glass bowl that contains 20 slips of paper with my name and one with Prim's. It's such a small fraction, I tell myself. Such a small chance that I will be sent to the Games. To my imminent demise. But my palms are still sweaty, my body still tense with anxiety. I look to Gale, who appears to be holding his breath as the name is being drawn. I can see the hatred in his eyes, his complete detest for everything that his happening right now.

I silently wish for my name not to be chosen. Not only for the obvious reasons, but because I am certain Gale's reaction to my name being called would only make matters much, much worse. I start to wonder how he would deal with his anger towards the Capital if the name of the girl who carries his child is drawn. What would he do? Punch out a Peacekeeper? Start an riot right here in the square? I know whatever it is would, without a doubt, result in his very public execution.

I'm just barely paying attention to the name that Effie is reading as I contemplate this, and for a second, I can swear that she has just read my own. _No..._I think. _Oh, no._

But my fear diminishes when Katrina Evanson, a 15 year-old girl from the Seam, is slowly and tearfully escorted through the crowd by a group of Peacekeepers. I heave a large sigh, and I hate the relief that is washing over me as this girl is sent to her very probable death. I may have made it through another year, but there's 23 children that will never return home to their parents.

The boy tribute's name, Page Harrington, is read next, and I feel all the anxiety that has been slowly building up over the past few weeks dwindle away in an instant. After the reading of the treaty and the playing of the anthem, the two new tributes are escorted towards the Justice Building. Usually the crowd shows their respect by standing quietly in place until the newly chosen tributes have left the square. However, Katrina and Page have just started to step off the platform when Gale wastes no time making his way towards me. I find myself doing the same, and we somehow meet in the middle of a group of town kids as I fling myself into his arms. He's grinning ear to ear as he joyfully lifts me up off the ground, giving me a tight hug before placing me down carefully and planting a kiss on my forehead.

It is all quite a show, and somehow we have attracted the attention of the crowd surrounding us. But at the moment, I just don't care, and making the other girls think that we're a couple may not be such a bad thing right now.

It's a time for celebration. We have another year to live and another chance at life.

…

Gale and I sit on the front porch of his house, sipping warm mugs of tea as Hazelle and my mother prepare dinner in the kitchen. I can smell the stew Hazelle is stirring on the stove top as she chats casually with my mother who works to prepare greens for the salad. Gale is out of the reaping now, Prim and I are safe for another year, and there's enough for dinner. It is a good day, and we decide to end it with a good meal.

The kids all run around out front of the house playing with Rocky and squealing in delight. I smile as I watch Rory and Prim attempt to teach the dog to do tricks, although he's much too rambunctious to pay attention to their commands long enough to learn anything. Gale grins, laughing softly at Posy as she takes the dog's paw into her hand, telling him to "shake." But Rocky's only interest right now is the stick that Vick holds high above his head, preparing to throw. One thing Rocky does know is to fetch, though I have a feeling he knew long before he became a member of the Hawthorne household.

"We should tell them," Gale says as we watch our younger siblings play. "Tonight. I think it's a good time to tell them."

My teeth clench together slightly at his words. I had agreed in telling everyone after the reaping was over with, but I'm still not looking forward to it. "Tonight?" I ask him. "But things are so perfect right now. I don't want to drop this on them, not when everyone is so happy."

Gale finally looks up, his eyes meeting mine. "You know that we have to eventually. The longer we wait, the harder it will be."

I watch Prim sit down on the bottom step of the porch. She's so young and innocent and impressionable. I have to wonder what she will think of this. What kind of example I will be setting for her, getting pregnant while I'm still just a child myself. Being so casual about becoming intimate with a boy. Putting everyone's lives at risk in the process.

"You can't hide the truth forever," he points out. "Look how well that worked with me."

I sigh. "I'm not ready yet."

"Katniss-"

"Hazelle likes me right now," I interrupt. "I don't want to change that."

"My mother could never dislike you, Catnip. You're going to be the mother of her grandchild," Gale assures me.

"Yes, I'm giving her a grandchild who's only five years younger than her own daughter. I'm sure she'll be ecstatic," I say dryly. "The last thing she needs right now is another child to worry about."

Gale shakes his head at me.

"Two more weeks," I plead with him. "Please, Gale. Give me a couple of more weeks, and then we'll tell everyone," I promise him.

"Gonna be able to hide that for two more weeks?" he asks me, nodding towards my slightly protrusive stomach. I blush. Being pregnant is one thing, looking it is quite another. And he's right, before long there will be no hiding the fact that I am expecting.

"Under my normal clothes, yes," I answer. "It's not every day I wear one of Mother's fancy dresses though."

"It's too bad," Gale says, eying me. "It suits you. You look feminine even."

I roll my eyes at him, because he has to have some idea of how difficult it would be to hunt in a dress. Before I can even vocalize my retort, his large palm in on my abdomen. I'm surprised at the look of affection that is already in his eyes.

"I wonder how big she is right now."

"About the size of a plum," I answer, and Gale gives me an inquisitive look. "My mother has books on it. Now move your hand before someone notices," I say, swiping it away and self-consciously glancing around me.

Our families all pile into the Hawthorne's tiny kitchen as dinner is being served and sit around the large oak table in the middle of the room. I feel Gale give my knee a reassuring squeeze beneath the table before we begin to eat. Everyone is in such good spirits today that it's much too difficult to worry about the trying months ahead.


	9. Chapter 9

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 9_

The next day the morning light pours in through the small window in our bedroom. I realize quite quickly that not only am I alone, but judging by the brightness outside, the sun has been up for awhile. It's Saturday, the day that Gale and I usually wake at the crack of dawn and trek into the woods to start a day of hunting and foraging. I was supposed to be up with the sun this morning, but obviously I had overslept.

Mother and Prim stand in the kitchen doing their usual weekend cleaning. Prim sweeps away a layer of dust that covers the floor as Mother cleans the cobwebs from the corners.

"You're up," my mother says, giving me a quick glance before returning to her housework. "You missed breakfast by the way."

A look at the wall clock alerts me that it is already 9:30. Somehow, I've allowed myself four extra hours of sleep, which means four less hours for hunting.

"Why didn't anyone wake me?" I ask them, a bit angry.

"I tried," says Prim with a shrug. "You told me to leave you alone."

I run my hand across my forehead in anguish, pushing the stray pieces of hair that have fallen from my braid back out of my face.

"Gale came over," Mother says. "He told us not to rouse you, so we decided to let you be."

I sigh.

"He said that he would wait for you. He wanted to see you into the woods himself."

I nod, retreating back to the bedroom and dressing myself in the clothes I had worn the previous day. Gale now insists that I don't exit the fence on my own anymore. Instead, we usually either meet at one of our homes or outside the usual opening in the fence. I don't like being made to feel weak, but he's much too persistent to argue with.

I slip into my hunting boots, opting against the jacket today. It's much too warm for it now, but I always make sure to wear long sleeves to prevent being cut up by stickers or getting poison oak and such out in the woods. After grabbing my game bag and bidding Prim and my mother good-bye, I set off towards the Hawthorne home.

Gale is sitting on the porch when I arrive, sharpening his knife against a stone.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I demand before he has a chance to say anything.

He smiles, shaking his head as he offers me a small laugh. "Figured you needed your rest after last night. Now don't tell me you went straight home and fell asleep after all that puking." No, of course I hadn't. I was too busy warding of an intense headache to lull myself to sleep. Not that it was any excuse to start our day late.

"Doesn't matter," I answer. "We should've gotten a head start! We wasted hours, Gale."

He rolls his eyes a bit at me as he stands.

"Have you even checked the snares yet?" I ask him.

"I was waiting for you. I knew if you came here while I wasn't around, you'd just head out yourself."

"And so what of it?" I demand. "I'm not breakable, you know. I've been going out into the woods _by myself_ since I was 12 years old. You know that-"

My words are cut off as Gale approaches me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I know it, Catnip. You're downright deadly," he assures me, but he has a playful smile that only succeeds at elevating my bitterness towards him.

"Saved your neck enough times," I remind him, which is true. I've fended off a couple of wild dogs during our years together, not that he has never returned the favor.

"Are you feeling better this morning?" he finally asks me, and I huff at his sudden change in our topic of conversation.

"Yes," I grumble.

"You eat anything yet?"

I don't answer him right away, and he instantly recognizes that I must have skipped breakfast. "Come inside," he tells me. "My mother's still warming grain on the stove."

"We have to get going," I begin.

"We have time," he assures me. "I've seen you eat lately, you can finish off a bowl in less than two minutes."

I scowl, but it quickly fades because his comment is all too true. Gale takes my arm and begins to tug me into his home. "Gale, I-I can't..." I tell him, pulling back as his eyes meet mine. He understands.

"Kids already ate, Catnip. I promise, no one will starve if you eat a bowl."

Hazelle is standing over the stove as we enter the kitchen, and the kids are running throughout the house screaming everywhere. Soon Vick comes skidding through the hallway in his socks and knocks over a table of framed photos, causing them to smash onto the floor. Hazelle finally snaps, urging them all outside in an instant. She sighs as she leans over to pick up the broken pieces of glass, and I quickly retrieve a broom and dustpan to help her.

"Oh, Katniss," she says when she realizes I am at her side, offering me a warm smile. "Feeling better this morning?"

I sweep up the tiny shards of glass as I nod. "Much better, thank you."

"That's the funny thing about it, I suppose. It can come any time of day."

I pause at her words, taking them in slowly. We discard the broken glass into the wastebasket and Hazelle puts her hands on her hips as she studies me. I can't seem to distinguish the strange expression that crosses her face as her eyes meet mine. She begins wringing her hands together peculiarly, and that's when I realize that she's suppressing a ginormous smile. Before I know it, Gale's mother is crushing me into a tight hug. "I think that it's wonderful," she tells me into my ear, not easing her hold on me. "They always said you two would end up together, and now you're starting a family."

Gale enters the room just in time to catch my glower. I open my mouth to say something to him when Hazelle finally pushes me away at arm's length. "I have everything you need," she assures me, pulling me towards the back of the house into the bedroom she shares with Posy and pushing back the old fabric curtain that covers the closet. Crate upon wooden crate of baby things—stained, worn sleepers; fuzzy, pilling blankets; tiny mismatched socks and hats. Some of them looked like things that even Gale had worn as an infant, though I suppose if I had as many children as Hazelle, I'd never throw anything out either. "I knew I was saving these for a reason."

I force a smile as I stare back at her. I turn around to see Gale's expression and he grins nervously as he rubs the back of his neck, offering me an innocent shrug.

…

I shove Gale roughly in the back as we walk through the meadow towards the fence. "I thought we had an agreement!" I demand, but he merely laughs at my outburst. He is definitely not rubbing me the right way today.

"Settle down, Catnip."

"I told you I wanted to wait two more weeks. Instead you waited, what? Two hours!"

He finally turns to meet my angry gaze, still chuckling a bit at my expense. "What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry for telling my mother that I've got a baby on the way? You ran out the backdoor puking in the middle of dinner last night and she was worried, so I told her the truth."

"She's going to tell my mother, Gale!"

"Your mother already knows," Gale points out. "I honestly don't see what the big deal is. Besides, I agreed to nothing."

"You could have had a little more consideration for what I wanted!" I exclaim. "I'm not ready to deal with it all right now. I just wanted a few more weeks where I can just be me!"

"You are you," Gale replies dryly, and I can tell by his tone that he's feeling a bit angry right now. "Putting it off is just going to make things worse. In two weeks, you'll want another two, and before you know it, you won't be telling them at all! Everyone was suspicious already, Katniss. You won't even acknowledge that your own mother knows that you're pregnant. She's a healer, and the one person who can help you the most through all of this-"

"I don't trust her," I cut him off. "I don't even want her to know. She's obviously waiting for me to say something so she can be a part of this, and I think that it's best that she stays out of it for as long as humanly possible."

He stops dead in his tracks, finally spinning around to face me. "Well then you're going to have to _learn _to trust her," Gale retorts. "Because I don't know how to deliver babies and my mother almost died having Posy by herself."

I fold my arms over my chest as I narrow my eyes at him.

"She's not a bad woman-"

"How can you even say that, Gale? She left Prim and I to fend for ourselves, to starve to death! We'd all be dead if it weren't for me. She didn't even care. I don't even think she feels any remorse for what she'd put us through. If it weren't for the time my father had spent teaching me to hunt when I was younger, I'd probably be lining up on old Cray's back doorstep every night like all of those other starving girls."

"Well, she's here now, and whether you like it or not, she's going to have a part in this," Gale angrily retorts. "You need her, Katniss. You have to admit that."

I sigh loudly, hating the argument that has taken place between us. "Let's just leave it alone," I finally grumble. "We're almost to the fence, and I don't want to be scaring off any game," I call back as I stomp past him towards the fence with a huff.

…

Somehow, word spreads fast after that week, and before I know it, the entire school is smirking at me and exchanging whispers behind my back. I'm not even quite sure how they know, but they do. I guess it's a good thing for them that I don't care what they think of me, otherwise I'd be pinning them against the hallway walls by their throats.

While most of my classmates secretly tease at the idea of my being pregnant, there are a few from the Seam that only offer me looks of pity. They all know what life will be like for me now; it's happened to others before with dire consequences. No one speaks directly to me about it, though I do overhear a conversation that takes place in the girl's room as I try to heave as quietly as possible. It's at that moment where I am braced over the toilet, choking back bile when I hear a couple of what must be merchant girls come in discussing it loudly.

"He never really has been all that careful," one, who's voice sounds excruciatingly familiar to the alderman's daughter, comments. "My cousin was with him once. He took her behind the sweet shop and that was that."

I frown as I peer through the gap in the stall door.

"I don't know. He really does have his pick. I'm not sure why he'd choose some trollop from the Seam when he could have just about anyone."

"Guess he's stuck with her now."

"I wonder if his mother will make him marry her?"

"I don't know. She's not much better with all of those fatherless children she has around."

They both take their time fixing the ribbons in their hair and applying more rouge in the mirror before leaving. I felt ill earlier, but now I feel downright enfeeble.

At lunchtime I throw my meager meal down on the table across from Madge with a loud thud. She's chewing her food carefully as she looks up at me. I expect her to say something about the piece of gossip being spread around at school, as it is an interesting one. Instead, she says nothing at all, but the look that she gives me tells me that she's heard every word of it. I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised. Madge has never seemed to care about things that don't concern her.

She's one of the very few.

I find out quickly this week that the girls who used to just put up with me now despise me. I am a threat to them and the relationship they all thought that they would eventually have with Gale. And who knows? Maybe they would have all had their turn with him if it weren't for me. After all, he is so young, so handsome, and for the longest time was considered to be so very eligible. But apparently I have become the ball and chain that has imprisoned him into a life of monogamy, the one thing that stands in the way of him whisking them off their feet and carrying them into the Seam bridle-style.

Maybe in a way I've saved one of those merchant girls from a life of adversity. However, the day they thank me for it is likely to never come.

...

I find that Gale is waiting outside the school to see me home as he typically does. Of course, snickers surround us as I approach him, and I seethe in anger from the day I'd just been through. I pull Gale further along until we are finally out of earshot of the eavesdroppers. "Who else did you tell?" I demand in a loud whisper.

He offers me a fake look of confusion.

"Who did you tell?" I ask him again. "Because it's certainly no coincidence that everybody seems to know now!"

His mouth closes tightly before reopening. "Thom-" he begins, and I throw my hands into the air as I begin to walk away.

"Katniss, wait," Gale shouts, the usual patience in his voice now void.

"You told Thom," I say back. "Because Thom out of all people needs to know that you knocked me up. Well, that's just fine." But part of me doesn't even care that he's told Thom. Part of me is still angry at the conversation I'd overheard earlier.

"Listen," Gale tells me in a serious tone as he grabs my wrist tightly to keep me from walking away. "Thom's father is a foreman in the mines. He's doing me a favor. Doing _us _a favor. I explained to him our situation," he goes on as and I insistently shake my head at him. "Katniss, he can get me into one of the higher-paying jobs. More money, less worrying. Understand?"

"The higher-paying jobs in the mines are more dangerous!" I exclaim. "You'll bring home a few more coins each week for what? Risking your life every day? Ensuring your early death? It was stupid, Gale."

Gale's brows draw together at my outburst. "Do you really think that with the way things are going right now that we'll get by with just hunting anymore?" he demands. "If I don't work, we starve. You, me, the kids, the baby... We can't rely on hunting anymore, Katniss. You know that, because you've seen what's going on out there."

I don't give him much of a chance to say any more to me before I turn around and briskly walk away. Gale lets me walk myself home for once, and that's just fine with me.

…

The next morning I have little choice but to speak to Gale again. After all, we are relying on our hunting partnership to bring home dinner every night, and I don't want to deepen the rift that has taken place between us over the past week, not with the baby and everything. Because I can't afford to lose him right now—as a hunting partner or as a friend.

It doesn't stop my bitter feelings towards him, however.

I find Gale not too far away, downhill from the fence. He's cupping water from the brook in his hand and drinking it thirstily. I shake my head as I pull out my canteen and climb down the bank to hand it to him. "Don't drink that. It hasn't been treated. You'll get sick from the parasites."

He stands up, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve as he looks at me in surprise. "You're not still mad at me?" he asks.

"Just saving you from the intense cramping and diarrhea you're sure to experience tonight," I assure him. "Not that you don't deserve it." The second part seems to roll off of my tongue before I can hold it in.

"I've drank the water here before. Nothing bad's ever come of it."

I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised to find Rory on our doorstep later that evening, face red and struggling to catch his breath from running all the way from his home to ours to eagerly request my mother's expert advice back at home. What does surprise me, however, is finding Gale slick with sweat as Hazelle tries desperately to calm his convulsions.


	10. Chapter 10

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 10_

I stand in shock in the doorway of the room that Gale shares with his two younger brothers. I can't seem to move, I can't seem to breathe. All I can do is stand helplessly staring as the father of my child thrashes wildly in his bed, his eyes rolling back into his head as his mother speaks soothing words of comfort to him.

Prim and my mother look to be in shock, too. Because we hadn't expected to find this when Rory led us back towards his home, trying desperately to catch his breath as he urged us to move faster. I didn't doubt that Gale was ill, but I didn't expect him to be suffering through a seizure from drinking a bit of untreated stream water.

Luckily, my mother and sister are professionals, and it only takes them a half-second to snap out of their trance and get to work.

"Get him on his side," my mother instructs Hazelle. "Try to hold him still until the seizure ends so that he doesn't accidentally hurt himself."

I can tell that Hazelle has been crying, not that I blame her. Watching Gale in this state was putting me on the verge of tears, too. But soon his movements begin to die down and he is unconscious, lying limp in his bed. Prim moves quickly to fetch a bowl of cool water and a clean clothe and begins wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Has he had seizures before?" my mother asks Hazelle, who quickly shakes her head. "Let's see if he comes to. It'd help if he could answer some questions."

"Gale?" Hazelle asks her oldest son as she softly nudges his shoulder, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "Gale? Gale, are you awake?"

His eyes open slightly as he grimaces through the pain, and Hazelle leans down to plant a kiss on his cheek. His skin is so pale, he looks exhausted, and I have to wonder how a parasite would do this to anyone.

My mother reaches up and touches his forehead to check for fever and frowns. "Gale, have you eaten anything strange lately? Unknown plants or game? Or hit your head by any chance?"

"No," he manages to answer in a strained voice. I can tell that his eyes are attempting to fix on me, but he looks disoriented.

"He drank water from the stream this morning," I promptly pipe up. "It wasn't treated."

My mother quickly shakes her head. "No, a parasite wouldn't do this to him. It has to be something else." She pauses carefully before asking the next question. "Gale, have you taken any strange medications? Any type of drugs?"

Hazelle scowls at the question, clearly offended. "He'd never."

"We need to know for sure," my mother states, her voice clear of any judgmental tone. As a healer, she's learned to get the basic facts without dwelling on a person's moral values.

Gale shakes his head, and I can tell that he desperately wants to sleep. My mother pulls his pillow back under his head before suggesting that he do just that. "The seizure has taken a lot out of him, and it might happen again. We'll monitor him and figure out what to do from there."

The next hour is excruciating. The two youngest Hawthorne kids have already gone to bed in the other bedroom, and we sit quietly observing Gale as he sleeps. And while Gale is sleeping, he's also whimpering and groaning from the pain even in his slumber. The way that his arms cross over his stomach as his knees draw up towards his chest is a good indication of stomach cramps. But these aren't the stomach cramps of an ingested parasite that would eventually run it's course. This is something else, something much, much worse.

"Arsenic is a common poisoning in water," my mother states as Hazelle offers her a mug of tea. "But you'd find that in well water, not stream water. No one else is sick, so it didn't come from the well. Katniss, are you sure he didn't eat any strange berries or something of the sort while you two were out there this morning?"

"No. He'd know better," I say. "We knows what's safe to eat, and if we don't, we refer to the book. We've been foraging too long for him to do something ignorant like that."

My mom frowns thoughtfully into her mug. "The seizures, his symptoms, they all tell me that he's been poisoned. It doesn't make sense though. Where would the poison come from? Unless it's being dumped into the stream outside the district." The last sentence the exits her mouth is supposed to be sarcasm. Because why would anyone bother with doing that when no one is supposed to be leaving the fence that surrounds the district in the first place?

But then my mind instantly goes back to the animals. The way that they are strangely dying off and how we thought the Capitol might have something to do with it all. Had Darius or Cray or maybe even the Mayor finally spilled the beans? My first instinct tells me no, because they love the game and other delicacies we bring in just as much as the everyone else. The only sort of turkey or rabbit or even strawberries they can get would have to be brought by train from District 11 and wouldn't be remotely fresh by the time it arrives. Nothing compares to what we can provide them with: The freshest game and fruit possible. If they suddenly had a problem with Gale and I, they would be better off doing us in before their only source of these items.

I hadn't told my mother about any of this. She doesn't take bad news well, and if times get tough again, I'm afraid she may detach herself like she did before. But as I watch Gale struggle in his sleep, I know that I don't have a choice. I go into full detail of what we've seen over the past few months—the dead deer, the dying lynx, the shortage of game over all. My mother listens carefully, completely emotionless as I speak. I fear that she may already be with withdrawing herself until she chokes down another sip of tea before finally speaking again.

Her eyes fall back into her mug, and she grimaces. "If it's something from the Capitol, chances are it's nothing that we're familiar with here. At least for arsenic, I know that I can use garlic. This isn't arsenic poisoning though, and I can't make assumptions about how to treat this. With poison, you have to be certain or you can end up making matters much worse."

My stomach sinks at her words. So in other words, all I can do is sit back and hope that Gale doesn't die the same way all of the animals are doing. But I remind myself that he's larger, a good 50 pounds heavier than a lynx or small deer. Maybe his body would metabolize the poison before it did him in. He hadn't drank very much water before I came along after all. But then my thoughts go back to how the lynx lie paralyzed on the ground before I finally put it out of its misery. If the poison doesn't kill Gale, there's a good chance it will cripple him. And in the Seam, if you're incapable of going to work, you might as well be dead. No one takes any sort of pity on you, and you're likely to die a slow, agonizing death from starvation. You and the people who rely on your meager salary.

Mother sends Prim and Rory back to our house to fetch her medical books as I sit at Gale's bedside, wiping his face with a cool clothe as I speak soothingly to him. He's still unconscious, but I begin telling him about things that would make him happy if he weren't asleep. About the baby, how big my stomach is getting, how I managed to keep down my lunch today. I also tell him that I think that we're going to have a boy, and how he'll easily reach six feet tall by his thirteenth birthday.

I look up occasionally to where Hazelle and my mother sit over the kitchen table slowly sipping another cup of tea to help take them through the night. And then I realize that if Gale doesn't pull through this, he'll never be able to meet his son or daughter. It's one thing that continues to bother him about the fact that Posy was born only a couple of weeks after his own father died. Tears begin to form in my eyes when I think about how I may have to do this without him, without the only person I've ever been able to truly call my friend. I hate the fact that I have seen him through five reapings and still might have to watch him die in agony at the Capitol's hand.

The front door of the house slams, and I know that Prim and Rory are back with the books. Prim and my mother start going through them right away as Gale begins to stir in his bed. I reach to smooth his dark messy hair from his eyes as I smile down at him. It seems that he's finally coming to, which is a relief. Maybe the worst is over.

But soon his movements begin to become more jerkier and his entire body begins to shake. I shout for my mother as he begins to flail. Gale's eyes roll back in his head as they did before, and his arm flies out to catch the oil lamp which sits on the nearby table, flinging it to the wooden floor beneath and smashing it to pieces. My mother rushes into the room and turns him onto his side, doing her best to hold his arms down in the process.

"Katniss, grab his legs. If he keeps thrashing, he's going to injure himself." I do as my mother says, wrapping my arms around his long, powerful legs as he thrashes wildly and uncontrollably. I'm strong from all of the years spent hunting in the woods, but Gale is a good 70 pounds heavier than me and much stronger than I am. I hold his legs down to the bed tightly, but somehow he still manages to kick free of my grip on him. His calf meets my gut roughly, hard enough to send me spiraling backwards, knocking the wind out of my lungs in the process. The pain is evident as I quickly sit up, my arms wrapping protectively around my abdomen, though it's too late to do any good now. Hazelle gasps and my mother turns to me in shock.

"Hazelle, grab his legs. Prim, go lie your sister down and make sure she didn't break any ribs," my mother orders in an instant. I'm still gasping for breath when my sister takes me by the elbow, instructs me to calm down, and helps me to catch my breath once again. The pain in my abdomen is intense, but all I can think about the delicate life growing inside of me. Prim lies me down on the other bed in the room that Rory and Vick share, and I find that I'm trembling.

"It's going to be okay, Katniss," she soothes in such a way that I almost forget who the elder sibling is. I'm starting to cry again as Prim grasps at the bottom hem of my shirt. I'm just vaguely registering what she's doing when I move to stop her, but she has already tugged it up to expose my stomach, her eyes falling on the swell of my lower abdomen.

I've been trying to hide this all from her, but Prim is no stranger to the naked form. Never in my life have I had the privilege of over-indulging in anything, giving me a perfectly taught stomach throughout my entire childhood. Prim recognizes this as her eyes widen at the roundness of my hardened belly. She knows.

She doesn't say much as she probes around my rib cage, occasionally asking if I feel any pain in a particular area. After a quick examination, Prim concludes that none of my ribs have been broken. But right now, my ribs are the least of my worries.

Prim tugs my shirt back down before pulling a blanket up over my chest. I'm relieved to see Gale has stopped convulsing in the bed on the other side of the room, and Hazelle is wiping the sweat from his forehead once again as my mother takes his pulse by holding his wrist and staring at the wall clock. I know without being treated that it's likely to happen again, and perhaps repeatedly throughout the night until his heart eventually stops.

"Katniss." Prim is whispering to me in a delicate voice. "Does Mother know?"

"I think everyone knows now," I inform her.

"Gale," she says at her realization, glancing towards the disheveled boy lying lifelessly in the other bed. "It's Gale's?"

"Yes." Who else would it be? But I guess suddenly finding out your sister is pregnant when she didn't appear to even have a boyfriend does come as a bit of a surprise. I suppose that I can't blame her for asking.

"Lie still. I'll have Mother examine you when she can."

The next thing I know, my mother is probing at my abdomen with her fingertips and frowning as I cry out in pain at her actions. Her lips are pursed tightly together, and I can only imagine what she's checking for. The fear that what had just happened might have killed the baby is so overwhelming right now that I choke back a sob. It's like I'm losing everything in a single night.

"Did it hurt the baby?" I finally ask my mother when she has finished examining me. Her eyes glance at me briefly before returning to her work. She seems satisfied that I've finally acknowledged that she knows.

"I don't think so. The amniotic fluid provides a lot of cushioning that probably absorbed most of the impact," she assures me. "Just to be safe, why don't you lie still for awhile. I may even put you on bed rest for a couple of days. But tell me right away if you begin to cramp or bleed."

"What about Gale?"

Mother sighs loudly. "I'm not sure yet. I'd like to treat him, I just don't know how."

"But you have to do _something._ We can't just sit back and watch him die! What if we make him throw up?" I ask her. "Empty all the poison from his stomach. Maybe it'll work."

"I thought of that," my mother answers me. "But depending on the poison, it could do even more damage traveling back up through the esophagus. We'll just have to monitor his condition for awhile and decide whether anything rash needs to be done."

But his condition doesn't improve over the next couple of hours. Quite the contrary. It's when Gale starts struggling to breathe that we decide that we need to do something—anything—even if it means possibly making things worse in the process. Because neither Hazelle or I can handle the thought of him dying, and judging by my mother's expression, the last thing she wants right now is me losing the father of my child.

Prim is thumbing through book after book trying to find some sort of cure that might work. The first thought is to use garlic, which has properties that can draw out arsenic poisoning. Though we're almost certain that this isn't arsenic poisoning, it's one treatment that couldn't possibly make things any worse. So Prim goes about grinding the garlic into a thick paste with the end of a wooden spoon before my mother spoons it into Gale's mouth. An hour passes with no improvement whatsoever. Gale begins to seize again, and his body is becoming weaker from the fatigue of trying to ride out the electrical storm taking place in his brain. They are getting stronger as time goes on.

Gale's third seizure having finally come to an end, Hazelle is in full panic now and she's beginning to check out. My mother urges her to lie down for awhile, because it's almost dawn now and she's not dealing with Gale's worsening condition well at all. But Hazelle refuses to leave his side. It's sometime in the very early morning when Prim comes up with an idea.

"The leaves," she says, looking up from our homemade book of medicinal herbs. "The ones we use for tracker jacket stings. What if we grind them up and feed them to him? Maybe it would draw out the poison the same way it does from the stings."

"We're not sure if they're even edible," Mother points out. "They're meant to be a topical remedy. Gale's digestive system might not react well."

I'm still lying on my back in bed, trying to limit my movements as my abdomen begins to painfully bruise beneath my baggy shirt. "Do we have a choice?" I ask her. "If Prim thinks that it might work, it's worth a try. Is it even possible to do more damage to him than he's already endured?"

"Katniss, they're meant for tracker jacket stings," my mother informs me. "It's an entirely different type of poison. Who knows if they would even work? We could just make his condition worse-"

"We have to try something!" I demand. "So far all we've done is stuff garlic cloves down his throat and watch him suffer! He doesn't have to die. This is something that can work!" I'm feeling irate now, moving to sit up in bed but the motion sends a shooting pain through my torso. My mother crosses the room in an instant and places her hands on my shoulders to stop my movements, easing me back down against the pillow beneath my head.

"Okay, Katniss," she softly agrees as she tucks me back in. "We'll give it a try."

She retreats back to our home, leaving a hysterical Hazelle and a slightly overwhelmed Prim to tend to both myself and Gale while she's gone.

Prim sits on the edge of my bed, looking down wordlessly as I attempt to hold back the tears that threaten to fall for the third time tonight. The fear of loosing Gale is all too real, I realize as I stare at his pale, trembling body from across the room. Even at 6'3" and nearly 180 pounds, he seems so young and vulnerable right now, his life being in the hands of a group of people who have no clue what is wrong or what to do with him. I know that I won't be able to go on if something happens to him. If he dies, I will never recover from the loss. He's meant too much to me for too long. He's helped to save my family from starvation, was the shoulder I learned to lean on when I was certain I'd never trust again, and one of the very few people I can honestly say that I truly care for. It's at the moment that I begin to understand what my mother must have gone through after my father's death. Being so alone in the world with two children to care for and no one left to care for her.

My mother returns with the leaves, a mortar and pestle, and a small jar of Lady's milk. She wastes no time in grinding the leaves and diluting it with a bit of goat milk. "Let's start out slow," she tells us, spooning small amounts of the mixture into Gale's mouth once Hazelle has managed to wake him again. He seems confused and exhausted, but Mother finally manages to get him to take the medicine. He falls back into a deep slumber as Hazelle softly runs her fingertips through his hair, and I begin to wish that I was the one soothing him back to sleep. But my body hurts too much to move right now and Prim forbids it.

Now the morning sun is shining brightly, and finally our mother urges Prim to get some rest. She climbs into bed next to me, and I drape my arm over her small frame as I usually do when she's scared. Though I am the one frightened right now, and the action is more for my own benefit. Only time will tell if the medicine has worked or not, but I can't seem to keep my eyes open any longer, and it's not long before both Prim and I are drifting off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 11_

The small group dressed in dark clothing stand outside in the rain around the simple wooden crate. A few words are said and the Hawthornes hold each other closely as the box is finally lowered into the ground by a few of the miners who had worked alongside Gale's father. The rain continues to pour down, filling the shallow hole with mud and water and soaking my dark gray dress. I'm at loss for words, unable to even cry, because I don't even know how I ended up here. Hazelle throws the first fistful of dirt-turned-mud into the hole before the volunteer gravediggers begin to shovel the heap of earth back over the flimsy coffin that contains the his body.

I can't seem to stomach the scene taking place in front of me, and as inappropriate as it may be, I run. Away from my loss, away from all of the pain that I'm not sure how I'm supposed to deal with. The rain is falling heavy, soaking me as I continue to run blindly into the storm as it rages on, soaking me further with each step. Then I look down just in time for my eyes fall over a small rectangle hole in the ground that causes me to stop in an instant. It's as if it has appeared out of nowhere. I begin to loose my balance from my sudden stop and almost topple into it. Instead, I fall to my knees alongside the mysterious hole, sinking down into the sticky mud.

The small stone that marks the head of the grave catches my eye in an instant.

_Baby Hawthorne._

My hand goes to my abdomen immediately to find the swell of my stomach is now absent. My fingers glide down the taught skin where the notable bump used to be.

"No..." I begin quietly, and then I'm sobbing uncontrollably. Fat tears mix with the rain that beats down on my face.

"_No_!"

My hands flail out, reaching for something—anything—as I awaken with a gasp. Someone is at my bedside in an instant—or maybe they were already there—smoothing my hair away from my sweaty forehead and whispering reassuring words into my ear. It takes me a moment to realize who is comforting me until the familiar aroma of pine hits me.

"Catnip, it's okay," Gale soothes in an overtired voice. "It was a dream."

"Gale." His olive skin still looks a bit pale, but he's conscious now and up moving around, albeit slowly. "You were dead. I was at your funeral," I sob. I'm still shaking, trying to differentiate what is real from what was just part of my dream.

"Just a dream," he reassures me, rubbing my back. "I'm okay now. Try to take it easy. Prim told me I kicked you last night. I'm so sorry."

My hands instantly go to my protruding stomach at his words. "There was a grave for the baby. I wasn't pregnant anymore," I choke out.

"Katniss-" he begins, but my hands are on his face before he can finish whatever it was that he needed to tell me. I had to make sure that this was real, that Gale was really going to be okay and that it wasn't just another dream. He's taken aback for a second as my fingers smooth over his warm skin and through his dark hair. And like a crazed woman, I throw my arms tightly around his neck and begin to pepper his face with kisses. He lets out a tired chuckle as his arms wrap weakly around my waist in return.

"I thought that you were going to die, that you were already dead," I cry, not easing up on my embrace.

"Nope. The Capitol hasn't succeeded at killing me yet. And here I thought they'd lost their chance at trying after the last reaping." The comment is meant to be a bit of a joke, but I can still hear his bitterness behind the statement.

Gale's words cause me to quickly push away from him. "Gale...it's really not funny," I tell him, because the hell we'd all been put through last night was no laughing matter.

"I know it, Catnip," he tells me apologetically. "Your mother and your sister, whatever they did, it saved my life."

Without much thought, I climb onto his lap and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. I'm still trembling and crying into his shoulder as he holds me. If my actions are making him feel awkward, he really isn't showing it. We stay like that for a few moments, Gale rocking me and smoothing his hand in a circular motion on my back as my sobs finally begin to die down. I tell myself that my emotional breakdown was most likely brought on be the hormones, but a part of me thinks that I would have reacted the same way even if I weren't pregnant right now.

When I'm certain that I'm no longer dreaming, I begin to loosen my death grip on him and we part. Gale's smiling softly, reaching to cup my chin as his calloused thumb wipes away a single tear that manages to trickle down my cheek. "Are you okay? I feel horrible for what I did. I hurt you, and if I hurt the baby-"

"It was an accident, Gale. The baby will be fine," I tell him, but at the same time I'm a bit uncertain about that because my stomach still feels relatively sore this morning. How someone so small could withstand a blow like that seems so impossible, and my vivid dream is much to fresh in my mind to just forget. "Besides, you didn't kick me that hard," I add to my lie.

I'm still on his lap when I feel the presence of someone. My mother stands in the doorway, arms crossed and expression unreadable. "Glad to see you're both feeling better," she says, crossing the room as Gale sheepishly allows me to slip off of his lap. His face is a bit flush at my mother catching us in such an intimate embrace, but she takes his wrist into her hands and begins taking his pulse without further comment. "How's the stomach cramps?" she asks him.

"Fine. All but gone. Thank you, Mrs. Everdeen," he manages without really making eye contact. "I'd've been a goner for sure if you hadn't helped me."

"I guess we all have Prim to thank this morning for her smart thinking," my mother replies. "It was the leaves that saved you. You were progressively becoming sicker until we tried her idea. Something to add to the book," she says, and I nod. "Alright, Katniss. Lie down and let's have a look at you."

I do as my mother says, lying down flat on my back and allowing her to tug my shirt up just below my chest. I grimace at the nasty bruise that has formed on my stomach, realizing Gale has just caught on to my lie. He frowns as he stands over me, watching my mother prod around my stomach. "Four months?" she asks me.

"Just about."

"Is the baby okay?" Gale asks apprehensively as he stares down at me. "It looks like I kicked her pretty hard..." he goes on, guilt evident in his tone.

"I think so," my mother answers. "No bleeding or cramping?"

I shake my head.

"You should start feeling the baby move within the next few weeks. When you do, it's a good indication that everything will probably be okay," my mother goes on. "Judging by the location of the bruise and the fundus height, I'd say you are carrying too low right now for it to have done any damage to the baby. Too bad I can't say the same for your stomach though," my mother tells me. "I wish we had ice right now, but Prim's mixing up an herbal salve to help dull the pain and reduce the swelling."

My mother tugs my shirt back down before suggesting I get some more rest.

"Mrs. Everdeen," Gale says, rubbing the back of his neck unsurely as she begins gathering up her supplies. "Thanks for everything. And...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." he goes on uncomfortably. For a minute, I assume that he's referring to kicking me last night, but then I realize he's talking about my pregnancy. "I didn't mean to make things harder for everyone by..." Never one for words, Gale grimaces as he trails off.

"Well," my mother replies as she stacks together her medical books. "What's done is done, hmm? No point in getting angry over it. Won't help anything. You're taking care of things now, and that's all that really matters." And with that, she's gone.

"She's mad," says Gale.

I nod. "But she'll get over it."

"I understand why she is though," he admits. "I've realize how hard I've made everything for you. I'm sorry I told everyone before you were ready. And for...putting you in this situation... I know you never wanted children." He pauses slightly, wincing. "I wasn't careful. You didn't know better. It was your first time, and I should have been more careful."

"I know how babies are made, Gale," I say dryly. "We both knew what the repercussions were, but neither of us stopped ourselves. You can't really blame yourself when I was so eager to along with it. Besides, everyone was bound to find out the truth. Now at least I don't have to sit down and tell them face-to-face."

With a slight smile, he takes my hand into his and squeezes it reassuringly before standing. I can tell that he's drained, that last night had taken a lot out of him. I sit up on my elbows and frown as he crosses the room to fetch his boots.

"Where are you going?"

"The snare line ain't gonna check itself," he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull his boots on.

"You're going back out there?" I ask, my voice raising an octave. "Gale, you almost died last night! Whatever is being dumped out there is killing everything. You really think you've caught anything anyways?"

"Can't let the kids go hungry tonight," he goes on.

"Gale, please-"

"I'll be fine," he promises. "I'll check the snares and be back in a couple of hours. I swear I won't drink out of the creek this time." He's fetching his game bag when I bolt up from the bed, pain radiating through my torso at the sudden movement. I double over, my arm clutching my stomach as I move to stop him. Gale quickly catches me by my shoulders, returning me to the bed in an instant. "Lie down," says firmly. "Your mother said you needed to rest, you shouldn't be exerting yourself."

"If you go, I go."

"No, Catnip!" Gale says a bit angrily. "I'm not dragging you along after what happened last night. I swear, I'll be back before you know it."

"Please," I beg him. "I only just got you back. Just stay with me. We can check the snare line together tomorrow," I tell him, my voice wavering. "We'll be fine for tonight. Just...please, Gale. You're tired. You need to rest, too." I hate how needy my voice sounds and the fact that I'm pleading so desperately with him, but I can't let him go. Not after the very real dream I had just awakened from. Gale exhales a deep breath, and his steely gray eyes finally soften at my pleas as he nods.

"Sure, Katniss. If that's what you want," he tells me. I feel relief wash over me when he sinks back into the bed with me, lying down before pulling me against him on the small mattress. I close my eyes, relishing in the way that my small body fits into the contours of his. He's breathing into my hair when I feel his body suddenly stiffen next to mine.

"Katniss?"

"Mmm hmm?" I mumble into his chest before pulling away to see his expression. He looks as if he wants to say something but is not quite sure how to word it. His mouth opens slightly before closing again. He hesitates for just a second before gently tilting my chin and planting a quick kiss on my lips. "Let's get some rest. Okay?"

I nod as I place my head on his chest, closing my eyes and listening to the sound of him breathing as his fingers comb absentmindedly through my loose hair. And though I know that Gale is safe now, I can't help but to feel that there's much more to my dream than I had originally thought.


	12. Chapter 12

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 12_

"I want bread."

The words just flow from my mouth one morning as I follow Gale to check the snare line. He's fiddling with the rope of one in his hands when he looks up at me curiously.

"The white kind that the baker sales with the tiny seeds on the crust," I go on dreamily. "And maybe a glob of honey."

Of course I can't help but to want the very thing that I can't shoot, snare, or pick myself. It would only make sense for me to crave something that I can't even have right now. Gale is unable to suppress a smile as he adjusts the snare. It was empty of course—so far, they all are. This has become typical as of late.

"I see you've moved on from your strawberry cravings," he says as he stands back up. "Baker's bread, hm? Maybe if one of us can shoot a squirrel or two we can get something arranged."

We haven't been to the baker's backdoor in weeks now. What little game we've managed to kill gets split between our families. It's usually not a good idea to trade something substantial that has the protein to keep you going for something fluffy and pretty much void of offering any lasting energy. The white baker's bread has always been a delicacy for my family. I could easily make something out of the grain ration that the Capitol sends, but after throwing it up after breakfast this morning, I don't want to even think about it.

Gale takes my hand as he helps me down the hill. It kind bothers me that my center of balance is a bit off now, what with my expanding waistline. I used to be able to trek through the woods just fine, but I've become quite clumsy over the past couple of weeks and Gale doesn't want to take any chances of me doing a belly flop out here in the woods after what happened just three weeks ago. Pregnancy makes me feel weak, and I don't like it one bit.

The summer sun beats down on us and I make sure to drink plenty of water as we go. With the arrival of summer comes a small break from school before going back to class in eight weeks. I welcome it with open arms. Though it's been established that I will never finish my schooling, it's been agreed between my mother and the superintendent of the school that I will continue to attend classes right up until the baby is born. Until then, I will be doubling up on my studies, stuffing my head full with as much knowledge of coal and Capitol propaganda as humanly possible. But it should give me enough distraction to keep my mind off of the horrible things people have continued to say about me.

Gale is preparing to start work in the mines in about a week—something I try not to think too much about. We need the money to keep going, but I don't like the idea of him working such a physically-laboring and dangerous job.

I continue to follow Gale further into the woods to check the last snare he had set. I'm barely paying attention when the sound of something being thrown roughly to the ground causes my head to snap up. Gale's quiver bounces off of the forest floor, spilling arrows everywhere before he slumps to the ground. For a second my heart stops, and I think that he's been shot, but when he pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face into his hands I know that this isn't the case.

"Gale...?" I ask him unsurely. He doesn't respond, but instead pulls his hand down his face in anguish. I stand in front of him, looking down at him, confused.

"They're all empty," he finally says. I can see the worry in his eyes, the complete hopelessness and desperation. "Every single one!" he growls, sending my father's handmade bow into a nearby bush.

I stand silent for a moment, trying to take in the sight before me. Gale gets stressed sometimes, but never like this. Though things have never been quite this tough before, and the stress of the baby probably isn't helping anything. To say that the past couple of weeks have been hard would be an enormous understatement. There hasn't been enough to eat for awhile now, even less than before. I haven't experienced the feeling of satiation for days now, having made sure that Prim is getting a substantial amount to keep her going before I allow myself to eat. My morning sickness is still going full force, even with the homemade herbal remedies my mother gives me to help.

"What kind of father am I going to be if I can't even keep you fed?" he asks, his voice wavering. "How am I going to take care of a kid!"

"I'm fine, Gale," I say quietly.

"You're not!" he practically yells. "Look at how skinny you are, Catnip. You're pregnant and I can count your damn ribs!"

It's an insult, almost. But I can't get mad when Gale is sitting there on the ground on the verge of an emotional breakdown, blaming himself for everything and feeling completely inadequate. He's buried his face back into his hands when walk I up directly in front of him so that the toes of our boots are now touching. I've never in my life seen him like this before, so vulnerable and self-loathing.

"This isn't your fault, Gale," I tell him. "We both know what's happening, what's killing off all the wildlife. Don't let the Capitol's interference with nature make you question yourself."

He's still shaking his head as I speak to him.

"Listen," I begin in a serious tone. "You're scaring me," I tell him, and he looks up.

"Katniss-" He has a look of guilt in his eye right now, which is just what I'd been hoping for.

"If you give up like my mother did, I'm not really sure what I'll do. I have to know that I can count on you, okay?" I tell him, my hand trembling slightly as I lean down to pick up the quiver off of the ground. "You know that I can't do this without you."

"I wouldn't do that," he mumbles. "You know that I wouldn't do that to you."

"Then get the bow," I tell him, standing back up. "My father isn't around anymore to make you a new one, and my bow-making skills are a bit questionable. Get your stuff together so we can make the best of this. There's a little spring a couple of miles from here that couldn't have been tampered with. There will be more game there."

Gale swallows hard and nods before standing up and dusting himself off. I take his hand into mine for awhile, but we don't speak much for the rest of the afternoon. I'm still angry at him, even though I can understand the tremendous amount of stress that has been put on him as of late. I've been feeling it, too, but I've also been trying to deal with it better than I had over the past few months. If we're to get through this, I know we must keep ourselves composed, because the moment that we go off feeling sorry for our poor selves, we've basically given up.

…

I do end up shooting a squirrel that day, two actually. Gale takes down a rabbit, but hits it in the gut, which renders a great deal of the meat useless. I try not to look disappointed at that, as with all of the herbs we'd gathered it will still make a fine stew.

After returning back to the district, Gale and I stand eagerly on the baker's back doorstep, waiting for him to answer. The smell of fresh-baked bread wafts through the air, and my stomach growls loudly in anticipation. I can almost taste it right now.

"We'll just trade one of them," I tell Gale before the baker answers the door. "The other I'll feed to my family tonight."

He nods. "It's a fine squirrel. You should be able to get a couple of fresh rolls out of it."

But both our faces drop in disappointment when it is not the baker, but his youngest son, who answers the door. Peeta Mellark seems perplexed to find us standing there after weeks of not having anything to trade. I hate the look of utter dissatisfaction on Gale's face as his game bag drops to his side.

"Your father home?" he asks, and Peeta silently shakes his head. It's rare for Mr. Mellark to not be in the bakery at this time of day. His home is located right above the store after all. It's just our luck that we've managed to come knocking one of the few times that he isn't around.

Gale mutters and obscenity under his breath, and my hand reaches out to brace his shoulder. The last thing I need is another hissy fit right here behind the bakery. "He be around later?"

"Hard to say," Peeta answers unsurely. "He's out picking up bags of flour at the marketplace. He has to hitch up the wagon, so it might not be 'till nightfall."

"It's okay, Gale," I assure him. "It's not a big deal. Really," I tell him softly.

"No, you wanted bread, so we'll get you some," he begins, opening the palm of his hand to reveal two coins. I quickly grab his hand and force the money back into his fist.

"No. You need to save that. I don't need anything. It was just a hankering, I'll live." The last thing I want Gale doing is spending the last amount of money he has on a stupid loaf of bread to feed my craving. Meanwhile, Peeta watches perplexed as we bicker back and forth at his backdoor.

"My mother told me that your cravings are your body's way of telling you that it needs something, so don't ignore them, Catnip. Besides, maybe it'll help settle your stomach," he goes on, and as if on cue, Peeta's eyes fall over my waistline, studying it incredulously. My arms quickly cross over my abdomen as they usually do when I'm trying to hide my condition, but it's impossible to conceal now that he's already noticed. His eyes glance up from my baby bump to meet mine with a strange mix of emotions—disbelief, pity, and...disgust, perhaps? It's hard to describe, but he looks at me as if he's just been done some huge injustice. It's a bit surprising studying the array of emotions that cross the baker's son's face, since the rumor had been going around school full force when we were let out for the summer and it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to him. I sink back, adverting my eyes and feeling extremely uncomfortable.

Gale gently takes me by the arm and tucks me behind him, breaking Peeta and my awkward exchange of glances. This move seems to snap Peeta out of his stupor.

"I can make the trade," he tells Gale. "Let's see what you've got."

Gale removes the squirrel from his burlap bag and hands it to Peeta by its tail. The baker's son looks it over, holding it as far away from himself as possible as if someone had just handed him a dead rat. He goes on studying it, though it's clear to see that he has no clue what exactly he's supposed to be looking for. He nods. "Alright. Be right back," he says before returning to the door a short while later with two small loaves of bread.

My heart skips a beat as I watch the steam roll off of the two freshly-baked breads.

"No," Gale refuses, defiantly pushing the loaves away as Peeta holds them out to us. "Your father would never trade that much for one squirrel."

My eyes widen, and I don't think that I've ever wanted to hit him so badly in my entire life. I bite my bottom lip, because it's all that I can do to keep myself from grabbing that bread out of his hands and making for the hills with it. But I know Gale too well to think he'd swallow his pride for a loaf of bread. Everything we bring home is from a trade, and we don't accept handouts. Never have. It seems wrong to do in a district where someone dies of starvation almost weekly.

"Just take it," Peeta retorts a bit grouchily. "My father's been going on about fresh squirrel for weeks now. Besides, we had a surplus today."

Gale finally accepts the bread and the door closes in our faces before we can thank him for it.

"Why did you act that way back there?" I ask Gale as we walk away. "Pushing me behind you like that? You don't own me. I'm not your property, you know."

"He was making you uncomfortable," he answers me with a shrug. "Besides, I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

"What? You were protecting me from _Peeta Mellark_? He's about as nonthreatening as they get!" I say, and Gale chortles a sarcastic laugh at my reply.

"For someone who's pregnant, you really are too innocent, Catnip."

I don't put much thought into Gale's words. My mind is too busy trying to conceive why anyone would have a surplus of food in this district, especially during a famine. I hate it when I realize that the baker's boy had just done me another favor that I'll never be able to repay.

…

The best part of this terrible week is when I sit down at the Hawthorne's dinner table with Gale's younger brothers and sister with the fresh loaves of bread we have just brought from the bakery. I slice the bread up into neat, even slices and Rory grabs the small jar of honey out of their cupboard to smear on the top. The kids and I all chew happily, because we haven't eaten anything this good in so long. Hazelle stands at the table side smiling happily, and declines a piece of the bread when I offer it to her.

"No," she assures us. "The best part of this is watching you all enjoy it."

Gale still accepts a slice, though. But he's frowning and thinking hard about something as he eats it. I don't know if it was the empty snares or the strange trade at the bakery that bothered him more. I try to enjoy my small feast without thinking about how he will be hundreds of feet below the earth in a few short days, heaving a pick and pounding out coal.

"Do you have a baby in your belly?" Posy suddenly decides to ask me out of nowhere as she stares up at me with her big gray eyes. The question's enough to make me completely lose my train of thought.

Hazelle and I exchange a quick glance, because I'm not quite sure how I'm supposed to handle questions like these. I'm not exactly a positive role model for little girls right now.

"Posy, I told you how Gale and Katniss are going to have a baby," Hazelle swoops in to save me from this uncomfortable conversation. "The baby is growing in Katniss' belly right now."

"Oh," Posy replies, going on to take another bite of her bread. "Does that mean Gale put it there?" she asks with a mouthful of food.

I squint, pinching the bridge of my nose at her curious question. Right when I think that I'm going to have to explain this all to a four-year-old, Rory bursts out laughing. I look up see that Gale is grinning, too. I try to suppress my smile as I look down at the confused little girl who sits beside me.

"I think that was half the fun for Gale," Rory says teasingly, and Hazelle gives him a look of warning almost instantly.

The kid's mouth is too smart for his own good. Now Gale is blushing and the room is silent and everything feels so awkward.

"I think that I should go," I finally say as I clear my throat, quickly wrapping up a piece of bread for Prim and my mother before standing up from my place at the table.

"I'll walk you," Gale says, sliding out of his chair and following me out the door.

I finally allow myself to stifle a laugh as we begin to walk down the dirt road in front of his house.

"Wow, that was-" I begin.

"Extremely awkward," Gale finishes for me. "Not as awkward as the beating I'll have to deal to Rory when I get home though."

"Go easy on him. He got his smart mouth from you," I tell him as he takes my hand. Intimate moments like these between Gale and I are a common occurrence now, and it doesn't feel so strange to be sharing them with him anymore. We hold hands a lot, hug on occasion, and even kiss sometimes. We haven't established the nature of our relationship, but it seems like a funny thing to hold back on considering that we're having a baby together. A part of me knows that it has more to do with Gale's loyalty towards his the mother of his child and not his actual feelings for me though.

We walk for awhile in silence, just enjoying the cool night air and the sounds of summertime. Even with everything that's going on right now, it's hard not to let the melody of nighttime insects and the smell of flowers filling the air lift your spirits.

"I won't leave you," Gale finally says out of nowhere, sending me a sideways glance. "Just so you know, I would never do that to you. I'm taking complete responsibility for the both of you," he promises. "I'm going to take care of you, Catnip. Don't ever think that I wouldn't, okay?"

I nod, knowing that he's referring to our earlier conversation in the woods.

We walk for awhile before Gale sighs loudly, causing me to place my hand on his forearm to gain his attention. I know that he's been contemplating something all day, and I just want to know what's going on in his mind right now.

"What is it?" I ask him, a bit apprehensively.

"Before we get to your house, there's something I want to talk to you about," he says, stopping suddenly in the road and glancing nervously at our surroundings before choosing to go on. "I think that this whole thing with the Capitol poisoning me has been an eye-opener. I've been thinking about this a lot lately—the fact that you're still of reaping age, that we've got this baby on the way, that there's nothing more for us here than to work as slaves for the rest of our lives. I think that we should get out of of this place," he says quietly.

I frown, shaking my head in confusion. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Me and you. After you have the baby, I think we should leave the district."

But I'm still utterly confused. "But they won't let us go to another district. You know tha-" And then it all hits me at once. He's not talking about going to another district. He's talking about running away into the woods.

"We both know how to live out there, Catnip," he goes on. "We could hunt, build shelter, keep on moving. There's all of that unsettled space between districts, and we can live out the rest of our lives there. No starvation, no reapings, no Capitol trying to control every aspect of our lives. We could do it. After the baby is born, we can run."

"No," I say harshly and quickly begin to walk away. He's lost his mind. Maybe the poisoning had messed with his brain, because Gale Hawthorne has actually gone mad. He catches my elbow before I get very far.

"The Capitol is slowly but surely killing us, Katniss. They're cutting us off from our only means of survival right now. We could all starve, if not now, then in the future. I won't watch you _or _our child stand in the crowd for the reaping year after year to maybe even die in the arena" he says, his tone harsh as he squeezes my arm a little too tightly. "You and the baby are my family now, and it's my job to protect you from just this sort of thing."

"And what about the kids, Gale!" I exclaim. "What about our mothers? They rely on us! Are we just supposed to leave them to fend for themselves? No. I won't leave Prim behind. I was the only person keeping her alive for the longest time, and if my mother looses it again, there will be no one here to protect her. I just won't do it."

"Your mother if fine now," Gale argues. "And it's not about them anymore, Katniss," he goes on. "This baby is going to be our first priority from now on. Children aren't supposed to raise their brothers and sisters. We're going to have our own family, and that's going to come first."

"So you'd let Rory and Vick and Posy be called up on that stage to be sent off to be slaughtered?" I say. "How is it okay to flee to save our child, but leave them here to take their chances?" I ask him as I angrily pull my elbow from his grasp. "You know, a couple of months ago you criticized me for running when things got too hard. Well, you know what? You can't run from this either," I tell him detestably.

And then I march right up into my house before slamming the door loudly behind me.


	13. Chapter 13

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 13_

I fling the door shut in Gale's face and spin on my heel, dropping the dead squirrel and remainder of bakery bread onto the kitchen table before storming towards the bedroom. My mother and Prim watch me quizzically, but know better than to follow me. It's not something I can discuss with them without the risk of blowing up even more anyways. How would I even explain to Prim that Gale wants me to run away and leave her behind, never to hear from me again? The idea of it all begins to make me realize how cold and heartless Gale can be.

My back and legs hurt from a day of hiking through the woods and I hurl myself on top of my mattress unceremoniously as I let out a deep breath of air. I can hear my mother skinning the squirrel to prepare for dinner, but I'm not in the mood for eating anyways. The bread from earlier still sits solid in my stomach and there's a hint of sweet, sticky honey still on my lips.

I'll go to sleep early tonight.

The sudden lack of physical exertion causes me to begin to drift off into a much-needed slumber, but it isn't long before I feel a slight fluttering in my abdomen. My brows crease together as I remain motionless, waiting for the sensation again. And I do feel it, slightly above my pelvic bone: The soft punches and kicks of Gale's and my child.

They're so light that it feels like a butterfly has been trapped in my stomach and is fluttering about searching for an exit. And despite how angry I was only moments before, the corners of my mouth turn up in a smile when I remember what my mother had told me, about how feeling the baby's movement is a good sign. My hand smooths over my belly when I think about how happy Gale will be when I tell him that I can finally feel his child moving inside me.

But then I sigh because I realize that even if I wanted to, there's no way I could stay mad at Gale Hawthorne for a significant length of time.

…

Five days. It's all Gale and I have left together before he goes down into the mines to begin work. We had come to an agreement earlier in the week that those last few days would be spent hunting whatever we can. This also means traveling deeper into the woods to search for signs of more game. We could be on foot for a good few hours daily, walking towards another—and hopefully untainted—source of water in hopes of healthier, more plentiful game.

I get a head start this morning, not bothering to meet Gale at his home as originally planned. While I've decided not to hold a grudge, I'm opting for being a little more independent today as I'm getting a little tired of having to be looked after.

I don't go far, only to check Gale's snares before going to sit and wait for him at our usual spot. The heat is already sweltering, causing my braid to stick to the back of my neck. I pick blackberries and sip water as I wait for Gale to arrive. It shouldn't take him long to go to my house, find that I'm not home, and figure out that I've already begun without him. He probably won't be happy about it, but it feels like I'm loosing more and more of myself as this pregnancy goes on.

Sure enough, he shows up a less than an hour later wearing a scowl.

"You shouldn't have come out here yourself."

I toss a berry into my mouth, biting down and letting the sweet and tart flavor fill pop against my tongue.

"Thought I'd get a head start on the berry picking," I offer innocently.

Gale sets his jaw, and when I'm certain that he's about to start an argument about the whole thing, he pulls out a bouquet of wildflowers. "Just don't do it again," he tells me sternly while offering the flowers to me. My eyes glance over the mufti-colored flowers in his hands before connecting with his.

"Does this mean you're admitting that you're wrong?" I ask him without accepting the bouquet.

"It means that I'm sorry," he says. "It means that I want to make amends with you, and that I'll go along with whatever you decide. But no, I still think that we should run."

Shaking my head, I push his fistful of flowers back against him.

"Katniss, you know how I feel about the Capitol. And, honestly, I thought part of that hatred might die once I'd outgrown the reaping. But you know what? It will _never _end, because there will always be someone I care about who's of reaping age. You, my siblings, my children, my grandchildren." He sighs as he runs his fingers through his thick, dark hair. "This injustice will never end. They still have a million opportunities to kill us. We could starve to death, die of some sickness that we can't treat, get blown up in the mines..."

I'm still shaking my head as he speaks. "How do you think it makes me feel? One minute you're telling me that you'd never leave me, and the next you're planning on leaving your mother, brothers, and sister—your own blood relatives!—to fend for themselves while you selfishly run away into the woods. These are the people you love Gale, the people who love you more than anything."

"You know that I would take them with me if I could," he answers. "_Hell_, I would take the whole damn town if I could. But nine people in the woods running for their lives? It's only a matter of days before the Capitol hovercraft catches up and comes along to kill us or torture us in whatever way they do. At least with just us three, we have a chance."

"So you'd choose me over Posy?" I ask him.

He frowns, throwing his game bag to the ground. "I choose my child, Katniss! The one person in my life who hasn't already had the fear of the Capitol instilled in them! Together we can at least save our own flesh and blood from a life of discontent. This is all I've been able to figure out. Believe me, I've ran thousands of scenarios through my head. Maybe if my parents would have been so smart as to flee, I wouldn't be making this extremely difficult decision right now."

I sit back, adverting my gaze from the intense one that Gale holds. "I don't care what your reasons are, I'll still never go with you."

He doesn't say anything, just closes his eyes as he sighs. "Let's just go check the damn snare line."

"Already did," I say as I stand up and brush the dust off of the seat of my pants. "Empty. We need to think of something else."

"I know. Got any ideas? Obviously you're not a fan of mine," he answers spitefully.

"I do, actually," I answer him. "There's another water source far enough away that it probably hasn't been affected by the stream. More waterfowl and fish than you can imagine. It'll be a long hike there though."

He raises his eyebrows. "Where? How long will it take us to travel there?"

"A couple of hours at least," I say. "Probably a bit longer since, you know..." I explain, motioning to my belly while wrinkling my nose. "There's a small house there, and I thought we could stay a couple of days since it'll take a lot of energy for us to even reach the place, me more than you. We could bring back a haul." _Besides, it's the last chance for us to spend any time together before you go to the mines_, I add in thought.

Gale glances up at the noonday sun. "Maybe we could leave first thing tomorrow? Get the most out of our journey?" he asks me, and I nod. "You think you're mother will be alright with me taking you out into the woods for two days?"

"What's the worst that can happen?" I ask him. "You already got me pregnant."

Then I see it, the slight smile that plays on his features as he holds the flowers back out to me and I finally accept them. I think that it's safe to say that neither of us can stay mad at each other for long.

…

"I'm leaving for two days." I say it so matter-of-factly at dinner that my mother pauses completely while chopping turnips. "Gale and I are going to the lake to hunt. I'll be back by dusk on Sunday."

My mother quickly turns her attention back to the vegetables that she's currently chopping. "Is that so?"

"Is that safe for you?" Prim suddenly pipes up. "You're too big to even climb trees now. What if a bear comes after you again?"

"I'm not challenging any to a beehive, Prim," I assure her with a slight laugh. "I'll be safe. I'll have Gale with me."

My mother pushes the vegetables off of the cutting board with a little more force than needed as she clears her throat. "What does Hazelle think of this?" my mother asks me.

"Gale's an adult now, I doubt that she even cares." Which is true. It should make no difference what we do now, and it isn't as if we've never spent the night out in the wilderness together before. Granted, that was before we had slept together.

"I think maybe you should begin to consider how your actions are reflecting on your morals, Katniss," my mother offers. "People are already talking, and you taking off with Gale for two days will only give them more to say."

"Everyone knows that I'm pregnant," I mutter, my hand resting on my stomach. "They already know what I've done. Babies don't create themselves."

"Yes, that's true," she offers quietly, opting against countering my argument again. My mother stopped trying to tell me what to do ages ago when I took over the role of keeping my family alive. I guess she knows that since I was the only one supporting us for awhile that she has no place in disciplining me now.

"I'll bring you back some of those fresh plums," I tell Prim, kissing the top of her head while making my way across the room. There's a whole cluster of plum trees that grow near the lake, and Prim used to love it when our father and I would bring her home a bag to enjoy. It's been so long since we've had any, and I know that she will enjoy a fresh plum just as much as the memories that go with eating them.

…

The heat is stifling even though it's still relatively early in the morning when Gale and I set off. He seems to be fine with the hike to the lake, but I'm struggling to catch my breath and dripping beads of sweat as I brace the trunk of a nearby tree when he suggests we take a break.

Gale twists the cap off of my canteen before urging that I drink. The cool water feels wonderful on my throat, which is sore from breathing hard all morning. We have two canteens full, but I still try to ration the water. We don't know what we'll find when we reach the lake, as the water there could be just as undrinkable as the stream near the district.

I lie back against the tree behind me in fatigue before Gale offers me a handful of berries we'd stopped to pick before setting off this morning, and I accept them happily.

I peel my shirt away from my body, hating the way that it clings to my sweaty frame. Gale had suggesting we both pack light, considering how much we had to bring with us—a blanket for sleeping, our bows, extra arrows, knives, and his fathers handmade old fishing pole. Gale had even purchased some old nylon cord at the Hob, telling me he could probably fashion it into a seine for catching fish. While I hadn't packed an extra change of clothes, I did make sure to bring a clean, fresh pair of socks. I try not to think about how sweaty, hot, and miserable I am right now, but rather of how good the cool lake will feel against my skin. I haven't swam in forever. Gale and I used to swim in the nearby river, but obviously that's not possible right now with whatever deadly toxin that has been dumped into it.

We're just about to set off again when I feel the familiar fluttering I had felt the night before. My hand goes to my stomach in an instant. I must have an intense look of concentration on my face as I sit still enough to feel every soft kick and punch, because Gale looks at me worriedly and quickly asks me if I'm okay.

"Fine," I answer. "Just feeling the baby move."

His face lights up all at once. "Where?" he asks me, automatically placing his hand on my belly. I take his hand and move it to where I feel the baby lightly stirring inside of me. My hand is clasped over his as I feel the tiny appendages move beneath his fingers. He frowns. "I don't feel anything."

"You sure?" I ask him, moving his hand to follow the fluttering. "Now?"

He shakes his head, disappointed.

"Must be too small for you to feel it yet," I explain. "But there's definitely movement going on in there."

He smiles. "This means she's okay. I didn't hurt her."

Smiling, I nod.

An hour later we are standing next to the lake my father had showed me when I was just a little girl. It's not a huge lake, but it's filled with fish and bustling with wildlife. Gale stands in awe at the realization that this place—still untouched by the Capitol—is definitely a hunter's goldmine.

"Why didn't you bring me here before?" he asks as he drops our things to the ground.

"Don't know. It's such a long walk just to get here, and I suppose in a way it was always sort of me and my father's place."

Right now I'm sweating like a hog and dying to feel that cool lake water on my skin. I slip off my boots and socks immediately, roll up my pant legs, and begin to wade into the shallowest part of the lake. What I wouldn't give to dive under the surface right now, but without a change of clothing, I'm not much up for the idea of walking around sopping wet until my things dry. Gale must be reading my mind, because the next thing he says is, "Why not just hop in naked?"

My head snaps back to where he sits messing with the fishing pole and he offers me a bit of a smirk. "It's nothing I haven't seen before anyways," he reminds me.

"Yes. Almost five months ago," I counter.

"You really think I've forgotten?"

Now I can't strip down to nothing, because certainly he'd notice the blush that has taken over my entire body. After about 15 minutes of wading, I finally walk around to the other side of the lake, remove my outer clothing behind some overgrown weeds, and jump into the water in my underwear. I sigh instantly as the cool water laps over my shoulders, washing away hours of perspiration. Gale smiles at me from across the lake as I dive beneath the water, soaking my hair before popping back up to the surface again.. I paddle out to the middle of the lake and just sort of tread water as I enjoy the instant cooling sensation that runs through my body.

"Is it cold?" Gale calls from the bank.

"No. It's perfect," I reply with a sigh. It is perfect. The water is just warm enough and is just so clear this time of year. It isn't long before Gale is kicking off his boots and pulling away his shirt and pants before joining me in just his shorts. I loose track of him for a minute as he dives beneath the water and pops up right next to me, sputtering water from his mouth and pushing his messy hair from his eyes.

He looks gorgeous. So strong and lean and sun-kissed. The water beads down the defined muscles of his chest and makes his skin sparkle in the bright midday sun. I even have to mentally remind myself to stop staring before things get awkward.

"Probably pretty hard to swim with that belly of yours," he says with a laugh as he paddles circles around me.

"I'm still a better swimmer than you," I offer, ducking below the surface and diving beneath his feet as his toes lightly brush against my back. As the person who taught Gale to swim in the first place, I'm still a much more experienced swimmer than he is. I guess I just took to the water naturally during my visits here with my father. The ability never left me, even after years of not having come to this place.

We splash around in the water for awhile until it's apparent that both of our stomachs are growling and Gale suggests trying to catch something to eat. He'd left his pole propped up beside the lake, but we were much too busy playing around and scaring away the fish to have even gotten a bite.

Gale's the first out of the water, messing with his pole and re-baiting the hook. I'm standing in the shallows, squeezing water from my braid, when I feel his eyes on me and realize that I'm still in my underwear. I blush when I remember that actually my body really _isn't _the same one he had seen five months ago. I'm just slightly fuller than I was before. My breasts have swollen in size, thanks to my pregnancy hormones, causing my bra to dig uncomfortably into my skin. My once flat stomach is now large with child, the skin starting to pull shiny and tight across the hard globe of my belly, my navel already beginning to protrude. For a second I think that Gale must find the changes to my body so disgusting, what with my giant breasts and ballooning waistline. I advert my eyes in an instant, stepping up onto the bank and mumbling something about going to collect my clothes when Gale drops his fishing pole and steps forward, his hands bracing my elbows. He tips my chin up so that I am staring into his dark gray eyes.

"You're so beautiful."

There's something about the way that he says it—he's not pitying me or just trying to make me feel better about myself and my changing body. He states it so matter-of-factly that I can't help to believe that his words are sincere. I blink as I feel his body closing in on mine, his hands tracing trails down the sides of my body as my hands come up to grip his broad shoulders, taking in the feel of his wet, naked skin against the palms of my hands. He ducks his head at the same time that I rise up on my tippy toes, and our lips crash together.

It's not the same as the kisses we've shared over the last few weeks, which were always so short and sweet. No, this kiss is the same longing, needful kiss we had shared months ago in the woods and later that day in the meadow. Gale's hands move to my hips as I melt into him, making the space between us nonexistent.

"Katniss," he mumbles as his lips trace my collarbone and my hands go into his damp hair. We're moving fast, and I think we both know what it's all leading up to. It's probably pregnancy hormones, I tell myself. But then again, this has been the first opportunity for us to really be with one another in months. And with Gale headed for the mines next week, it may very well be our last. But it doesn't feel wrong this time, it feels _right. _The best part is that somehow in the craziness of it all, all of our troubles seem to disappear. There's no thoughts of reapings or starvation or running away. It's just me and him.

Our soaked clothing is discarded to the ground with a wet slap before we fall into the grass together.


	14. Chapter 14

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 14_

Gale and I spend the rest of the afternoon gathering, fishing, and blushing whenever we catch one another's eye. I'm tired when dinnertime finally rolls around, and Gale builds up a fire to cook our fish over as I spend my time gathering armfuls of dry pine needles and dumping them into a pile on the concrete floor of the little house that sits next to the lake. We decide that it's best to sleep there tonight since it's safer. Though the door was torn from its hinges long ago, we still have three walls of protection from predators.

After spending a couple of hours cleaning the place up well enough to sleep in and making a bed of poky pine needles, I unroll the large wool blanket Gale had brought with him over our makeshift mattress. It won't be cold enough to need it for warmth tonight, but it will make a nice barrier between our skin and the scratchy pine needles.

I'm exhausted by the time I sink down on the ground by Gale's side, and he turns the fish, which are skewered with long, straight branches, over on the fire before throwing his free arm over my shoulders.

"You look tired, Catnip," he notices.

I am tired. The long hike through the woods, the swimming, all of the gathering, and—okay—the _lovemaking,_ have taken a lot out of me. None of it would've worn me out a few months ago like it has today—save maybe the lovemaking, because who knows? But that was probably long overdue anyways.

I lean into Gale's warmth, resting my head on his shoulder as he removes the fish from the fire. After our meager lunch, I'm starving, too. Gale had put his father's fishing pole to good use this afternoon, catching four bluegill and three crappie in a three hour span. I peel the skin away from one and bite into it without allowing it to cool. The delicate flesh burns the roof of my mouth but I'm much too hungry to care. I end up eating three right away and staring at the extra before Gale grins and hands it to me.

"Eat up," he insists. "There's a lot more where that came from."

I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks, which, in a way, I kind of haven't. Not like this anyways. My belly feels full, which only makes me feel even more exhausted. We are watching the sun set behind the treeline as I begin to doze off on Gale's shoulder when he suggests I go to bed. I don't argue with him, just walk up to the small concrete house on the corner of the lake, make myself comfortable on the nest of pine needles, and fall asleep right away.

…

It's sometime during the middle of the night when I wake up screaming from a dream where a Capitol hovercraft comes out of nowhere and spears Gale straight through his torso before pulling him up into the sky. I awaken confused and terrified as I bolt up from our bed crying out.

"Catnip?" Gale asks groggily from his side of the bed. "Katniss, what's wrong?" His eyes look tired, but worried, as I gasp for air. It's completely dark outside now, except from the flickering light from the fire outside that Gale had kept going to keep away wild animals, and it takes me a second to remember where I'm at.

"You were dead. They found us and they killed you and pulled you away into the hovercraft," my words jumble out all at once. "They killed you... The Capitol killed you," I go on, still choking on my sobs.

Still groggy and half-asleep, Gale gathers me into his arms.. "No, Katniss. I'm right here," he mutters against the top of my head. "It was just a dream. I'm fine," he ensures me, stroking my hair from my sweaty face in an effort to settle me. He grabs a canteen from the bedside and urges me to drink. I'm still shaking when I twist the cap back on.

"It was all so real," I go on, my voice still a bit shaky. "They just showed up while we were hunting and..." I shake my head. "Why do I keep having these dreams?" I cry.

"The pregnancy is making you stressed. No one's gonna kill me, Catnip," Gale tells me. "I won't go down that easily. Now lie down and try to rest."

I'm still tired, but the last thing I want to do is go to sleep right now and finish that dream. Gale pulls me back down and tucks me against his chest before wrapping his arms protectively around me. I watch the fire burn low outside the door, listening to the sounds of bullfrogs only yards away. It's the second dream I've had involving Gale's death by the Capitol. These nightmares are just due to pregnancy hormones, I tell myself, because I don't want to think about them being my subconscious warning me of some sort of imminent danger.

…

The next day we spend the morning taking down geese that gather around the lake at dawn. They're easy picking, since their idea of fleeing danger is merely flying to the other side of the lake. I bring down three with ease and have to stop myself when I realize that we're going to have to carry all of our kills home along with our supplies.

I find that Gale had spent the previous evening while I was sleeping fashioning a crude seine from his rope. The mess of knots is certainly nothing to look at, but when we bring it out into the lake, it catches fish easily. Gale and I pull a hodgepodge of 8 or 10 from the netting and string an extra piece of the cord through their gills before dropping them back into the water and tying the string to the base of a small tree that sits at the edge of the bank.

By afternoon we decide to take a break and Gale is smiling because we have more than enough game to carry back to the district for trade. We wind up going for another swim—stark naked this time since it seems silly to be so modest after what happened yesterday—and yes, end up making love in the grass again. We tell each other we might not get the chance to do this for awhile, and Gale has the hormones of an 18-year-old boy and me the one of a pregnant woman. We're out in the middle of nowhere without a soul around. Ignoring the opportunity of being intimate with one another is hard to avoid under these circumstances.

It feels good to be so close to him. To have nothing—not even a shred of fabric—between us. My head is lying on Gale's arm afterwards as he hovers over me, gently touching my lips with his fingertips. His skin is a shade darker than mine from all of the work he's been doing outside this summer. Strong hands trace a soft trail down my arms—hands that can bring down a buck, repair a leak in the roof, heave an ax, but also feel so gentle as they glide across my skin.

"I'm glad that we came here," he tells me. "I think it's just what both of us needed. Plus, we finally have something to bring into the Hob when we get back. Seems silly how much I miss the black market action."

I smile, cupping his face into my hands before pulling him down into a kiss. My stomach flutters and I rest the palm of my hand on my abdomen as I try to decipher whether it's being with Gale that is causing the sensation or the baby growing inside of me.

"She's moving again?" he asks, looking down at the protruding stomach that divides us.

"I think so," I answer him before staring up at him curiously. "You're so sure that it'll be a girl," I say to him, noting that this wasn't the first time he'd referred to the baby as "she" or "her."

"Yes, because I want a girl," he sheepishly admits.

I smile. "I think that you're wrong. My mother says that it's a boy because she says that I'm carrying low."

"Not quite sure what that means," he says, leaning down to kiss my stomach. "Guess we'll see in a few months who's right. Come up with any names yet?" He asks me.

"Gale Junior."

He chuckles. "You can't be serious about that."

"Sure. Why not? He'll be just like a miniature version of you," I say. "Courageous and bold and always wearing a scowl."

"That sounds more like you, Catnip," Gale assures me. "Besides, Gale Junior isn't a fitting name for a little girl. One with your wavy hair and straight nose and short stature."

I wrinkle my nose. "No, this baby isn't going to be like me," I shake my head at him dismissively. "That's why it's going to be a boy and inherit all of your features."

Gale rolls his eyes. "You mean olive skin, dark hair, and gray eyes? I think that it's safe to assume that will be true no matter who she takes after."

I shake my head at him and realize this is the first time we've really spoken about the baby and not just the problems that surround the fact that he or she was created at the worst possible time in our lives. "I tell you what," I begin. "If it's a boy, I'll name him whatever I want to. And if it's a girl, which it _won't_ be, you can name her whatever you like."

"Sounds fair to me," Gale agrees.

Later that day, Gale takes a long look over the lake as we finish packing our things. We have a good three hours to make it back to the district before the sun sets. Then we'll go to the Hob and try to trade for a few necessities we've had to make do without and hopefully a bit of money for our pockets as well.

"I wonder how many more places there are like this out there," I hear Gale say as I roll up the blanket he had brought along. "Abandoned houses with a close supply of fresh water. I bet they're all over the place. People weren't always confined to districts, and there's all that open space in between. Maybe there's even a few descendents of stragglers from the Dark Days living independently out there."

"Capitol would've killed them all by now," I say as I stuff the blanket down into the burlap sack and then go to grab the string of fish from the lake. It's Gale's last attempt to bring up the idea of running, but it's hard to ignore the longing look in his eyes as he looks out over the uninhabited space that surrounds us.

…

Our entrance into the Hob is met with welcoming smiles of surprise. I'm a bit self-conscience being pregnant after years of some of the regulars teasing Gale and I about being together, which we never were until now. Gale, sensing my uneasiness, wraps an arm around me for support as I rest my hand on my protruding belly. I guess we really do look like a real couple now, young and expecting our first child. It'd be so easy for anyone to assume we were happily married and excited about starting a family. No one who didn't know us well enough would ever imagine all of the trouble we'd gotten ourselves into.

Greasy Sae does a double take from behind her counter and crosses her arms as she shakes her head at us. "You know," she begins as we both approach her with our day's kill in hand. "Someone told me you two were having a baby, but I couldn't believe it. Guess it makes sense considering how much time you spend alone together out there. Guess you gotta find some form of entertainment while you're waiting for game to wander by," she adds with a wink.

Gale and I both blush furiously until Sae gives us a smile that tells us she is only joking.

Darius, who sits at Sae's booth sipping stew, stands up immediately and offers me the last seat at the counter. I take his place apprehensively since I'm still not used to the idea of people fussing over me. Gale shows Greasy Sae the string of fish that we'd brought from the lake for trade while Darius leans in and whispers into my ear "It's too bad, Katniss. You know, redheaded children are known for their strength and intellect," he teases.

"Is that so?" I ask him. "I guess it skips generations then."

Darius offers me a simper before placing his empty stew bowl back on the counter. "Congratulations," he tells me in a sincere tone before tugging playfully on the end of my braid and walking away.

Gale lets out a small grumble as he takes the now-empty seat at my side and Sae serves us both up a bowl of stew. It's almost too warm outside to enjoy it, but the long hike home has left me famished. "He messing with you again?" Gale asks me, a bit of anger in his tone. Darius has always been a flirt, but it's always in good humor. Most of the time it still ends up rubbing Gale the wrong way though.

"Yes," I answer, somewhat pleased at his obvious jealousy. "He tells me that redheaded children are stronger and smarter."

"Too bad we only have Darius to use as an example, and he isn't backing up that theory too well."

We both have a laugh at the peacekeeper's expense before I dig in for another spoonful of stew.

"So, when's the nuptials?" Sae speaks up from behind the counter as she begins to fillet the fish. I almost choke on my stew at the sudden question, causing Gale to quickly reach over to pat my back as he mirrors my own nervous expression.

"We, uh," he begins uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. "We haven't quite discussed that. Been sort of...busy."

"I bet," she says with a wink, and suddenly I don't think we'll be missing the Hob quite so much anymore.

…

"I'll miss having you in my bed," Gale admits when we reach the front of my house. "Nightmares and all."

I smile until I realize that this is what it will be like even after the baby is born—Gale seeing me home and then telling me goodnight. We haven't discussed our future together yet or how it might change later on, even with everyone else back at the Hob already planning a wedding for us. We've only just come together, and the idea of us being more than a couple right now seems unlikely. I don't think that either of us want to rush things when our relationship has been so turbulent.

Then there's the likely fact that marriage may be the last thing on Gale's mind now, considering that only a couple of months ago he was kissing other girls and maybe even doing more than that with them. He certainly can't be all that enamored with me if he'd been thinking of someone else even after we were together. I try not to think about those other girls as it only succeeds and making me act spitefully towards him.

I allow Gale to wrap me in his arms before he leaves and give him a long kiss before he finally tells me goodbye.

That night, even with Prim sleeping peacefully at my side, my bed feels incredibly empty.


	15. Chapter 15

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 15_

"We need to hurry back before the shops close," I urge Gale as I pull him along through the meadow that surrounds the lake. "It's probably around two in the afternoon and most of them close at six, so if we don't break on the way back and get straight to the Hob to trade, we'll-"

"Alright, alright, settle down, Catnip," Gale interrupts me as he pulls up his belt of fat pheasants. "We've got plenty of time. Greasy Sae isn't exactly someone who can be haggled with anyways. We'll be in and out before you know it."

"I know," I reply, already out of breath even though we've only been walking for about 20 minutes. "I just want this evening to be special for her."

"It will be," Gale promises, throwing the game bag back over his shoulder.

"Do you think that it's safe to leave our things at the lake? I don't want anyone to come across them and know that we've been there," I begin.

"Catnip," he quickly interjects. "I doubt anyone but us and your father have even been to that lake over the past _century_. It'll save us the hassle of having to carry all of it there and back every Sunday."

"I know," I mumble. "I'm just trying to be cautious."

Gale throws his arm over my shoulder as we enter the woods, heading back towards the district. The shrill sound of cicadas fill the air, and the late summer temperature has already begun to drop significantly. While the leaves haven't quite started to turn yet, some of the thick vegetation that we wade through has begun to dry and wither.

Summer passed quickly for the two of us. I had tried to keep myself busy after Gale began work in the mines, gathering whatever I could in the forest those long days he was away at work, much to his dismay. But I think Gale has finally begun to understand that, like my mother, he has little authority over what I do. I know that I'm getting slower as I grow larger, beginning to waddle even, but I'd tried to make myself useful in whatever way I could. I wouldn't venture too far from the opening in the fence, just in case, but there were a few times that I had spent too much time out here and Prim had come calling my name when I hadn't made it home at a reasonable hour.

Although the animal life surrounding the very perimeter of the district is still depleted, Gale and I make a point to walk to the lake every Sunday—the only day Gale does not work down in the mines and the only day of the week I now look forward to. After spending 12 hours a day, six days a week down in the dark depths of the earth, our trips there seem to rejuvenate Gale as well as myself. We hunt. We gather. We fish and swim in the lake. And our relationship blossoms as we become more intimate with one another. Our mothers are knowing, giving us peculiar glances when we return home on Sunday evening with inexplicable sun burns in places usually concealed by clothing. Though neither say anything, because they both know that there's no conceivable way to keep us from doing what we want to.

School started back last week. I wish I could say that I really missed being in class, but that would be an enormous lie. Every day I deal with the judgmental looks, the hushed whispers, the snickering behind my back. There was an especially uncomfortable moment on the first day of school when Delly Cartwright put her hands on my belly and went on excitedly about how huge I was getting while a group of town kids watched me, snorting with laughter. It took everything I had not to push her hands off of me and run away, and maybe I would have if Delly weren't so darn nice and harmless. It really is hard to get mad at a girl like Delly, who doesn't seem to understand the rift that divides the merchant class from those of us who live in the Seam.

Gale and I make it to the Hob two and a half hours later, Sae looking at me over the reading glasses she wears on the end of her nose. "Sweetheart, I think it's time for some maternity clothing," she tsks, eying the old miner's shirt I'm currently adorning.

A few weeks ago I gave up on wearing my normal clothes, pulling out some of my father's old, oversized button-up shirts which I've taken to wearing. Never in school, however, where I am always forced to wear one of my mother's outdated maternity dresses. But at six months pregnant, I'm getting to be so large that I really do look ridiculous no matter what I wear.

I come out of the Hob with five coins after splitting my earnings with Gale. I'm practically bouncing on my feet with excitement. If I were actually capable of bouncing right now, that is. Gale smiles as he watches me. "Mind if I walk you to town?" he asks me. "I have business there anyhow."

I raise an eyebrow. "Business in town?"

"Cobbler's mending my work boots," he informs me. "Plus, I wanna see what sort of birthday cake you pick out for Prim."

I don't miss the faultfinding gawks and comments that surround us as we walk through the square. I don't know what unwed teenage pregnancy is like in the other districts, but I found out very quickly that it's very much frowned upon here. It's rare that a girl my age living in the Seam actually manages to carry a child to term, let alone get pregnant in the first place, and the merchant class is quick to look down on me as something soiled and broken.

Gale's grip on my hand squeezes a bit more tightly as the owner of the sweet shop whispers something under his breath towards his wife as we walk past.

Gale and I separate when I find myself in front of the bakery, eying the vast array of gorgeously decorated autumn-themed cakes on display in the front window. I let myself through the front door, the bell dinging overhead, and suddenly I feel incredibly out of place as I always do when I'm standing inside the bakery and not at the back door. I do purchase things with actual money inside the store every once in awhile, usually on Prim's birthday when I come in to buy one of the flower-shaped sugar cookies Mr. Mellark is known for. His wife always grunts and glowers when I purchase a lone sugar cookie with whatever money I'm able to scrounge up, but Mr. Mellark always has a smile to offer me.

This year I have a feeling that my current good fortune won't be everlasting and decide to make Prim's 13th birthday a special one. I'm not sure what the future will bring, or exactly when I'll have the opportunity again to splurge some of my hard-earned money on my little sister.

I let out a small sigh of relief when I realize Mrs. Mellark isn't running the cash, and I notice a mop of blonde hair bent over in concentration as the figure pipes a steady stream of light blue frosting around the edge of a cake. I watch curiously at Peeta intricately decorates the cake which sits on a stand in front of him, finally looking up with a start when he realizes that I'm standing before him.

"Sorry," he apologizes, setting the icing bag down and wiping his fingers on his apron. "I thought you were my brother." There's an uncomfortable pause where we both look at one another and neither of us speaks. "Um, can I help you?" he finally asks me.

"I need a cake," I tell him as my eyes fall over the elaborate tier of cakes on which he's working. I contemplate who would need such a massive cake when I realize that it's actually a wedding cake, one obviously meant for someone with money. Probably a Capitol employee. Hardly anyone who marries in the Seam can afford a wedding cake.

"Alright," he begins, watching me stare at the assortment of pre-made ones that sit in the case in front of me. They're all gorgeous, but probably too big and too expensive for a girl with only five coins to spare.

"How much for a small one?" I ask him, pointing to a plain white one that probably only measures about six inches in diameter but could easily serve my entire family. None of us eat enough sweets to stomach more than a few forkfuls of cake at once.

"Five."

My eyes glint up to his. "Is that the actual price?" I ask him. I don't want Peeta Mellark doing me any more favors when I already feel like I'm eternally indebted to him. With a bit of a blush, he nods.

I pick the cake up from the case and eye it scrupulously. I had wanted something that was very Prim, but this cake was nothing more than plain. I bite my lip as I ponder my purchase, because anything more elaborate would surely cost more money, which I don't have.

"Did you want me to personalize it?" Peeta asks me from behind the counter. "I can do leaves, or hearts, or flowers-"

"Flowers," I quickly say. "Do you think you could make them look like primroses?" I ask him.

With a nod he accepts the cake in my hand, removes it from its box, and gets right to work.

"What color?" Peeta asks me.

"Light bluish-purple. Periwinkle? I know it's not a usual color for a primrose, but-"

"I can do it," he assures me, and I watch as he takes a small bowl of uncolored frosting and adds in drops of blue and red coloring, stirring until he gets the perfect shade of periwinkle before scooping the mixture into a canvas bag. He then pipes it onto the top of what looks like an oversized nail with experienced movements of his hand. With a few swoops of frosting, he has a primrose. He does the same multiple times, cutting the delicate frosting flowers off with a pair of scissors and making a cluster of primroses in the corner of the cake before using a bag of green frosting to add leaves. The ending result is a beautiful and perfectly Prim-like birthday cake.

"Could you write 'Happy Birthday' on it, too?" I ask hopefully.

He's working at scripting the words out in perfect cursive when my body begins to tighten oddly. At first I think that it's just the baby moving until the muscles in my stomach harden and I feel intense pressure in my groin area. My hand goes to brace the counter and my body tenses as I try to figure out what's going on. The look that crossed my face must have been one of fear, because the next thing I know Peeta is holding my finished cake out to me and staring at me with a bit of worry in his eyes.

"Katniss, are you okay?"

The feeling passes quickly, but my eyes widen in fright. "I-I don't know... I just... Something feels wrong." For a second I don't know what to do because I'm afraid that I might be going into labor three months early. Peeta is just about to round the counter to me when the dinging of the bell on the bakery door causes my head to snap up, and Gale is standing there at my side.

"I think something's wrong," I quickly tell him, still holding my stomach as Gale braces my arm with worry. "I think I might have just had a contraction."

"Did it hurt?"

"No..." I answer. "It felt weird. Like my stomach suddenly got really hard."

I don't understand the look of relief that crosses Gale's face as his grip on my arm eases. "It was probably just a practice contraction, Catnip. My mother used to get 'em all the time with Posy. Relax. They're normal, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

He lets out a slight chuckle at my question. "I thought you'd been reading books of these things. Yes, I'm certain. As long as they're small and your water isn't breaking or anything."

I smile, a bit embarrassed, but Gale is already too busy looking at Prim's cake. "Is this the one you chose? It's perfect. I think she'll love it."

"Peeta made it exactly how I envisioned it," I tell Gale, causing him to look up over the counter at the boy who'd been quietly listening to our exchange. Peeta's face holds the same strange expression I'd witnessed weeks ago when we'd traded with him, his eyes quickly flitting away a bit self-consciously as Gale studies him.

"We should probably get going," I finally say. "I wanna get this home before dinner gets cold."

I'm about to pull the change from my pocket when the door that leads back to the kitchen swings open and Mrs. Mellark is standing before us, arms crossed and looking me over with a discerning stare that sends a chill down my spine. The old woman is never in a good mood, and Gale and I usually try our best to avoid her. She'd always rubbed me wrong after that fateful afternoon I'd witnessed her strike her youngest son across the face.

"We only serve _paying _customers here," she tells me with a displeased tone.

I don't reply to her accusation, only back away from the counter protectively holding my sister's birthday cake until I feel Gale's palm on my shoulder, stopping me.

"Mother, she's here to buy a cake," Peeta corrects her quietly. "I was just personalizing it for her."

Mrs. Mellark sets her jaw, frowning. "You forgot to clean up the kitchen this afternoon, boy," she finally tells Peeta in a nagging voice.

"I was doing the cake for the Marshall wedding," he quickly explains. "I'll finish up here and get right to it."

She shakes her head. "Do it now. I'll charge _them_ for the cake," she says, and I don't miss the look of disgust she sends our way as she refers to us. I hear Gale emit a slight sigh as we follow her to the till.

"That'll be seven, girl," she tells me, popping open the drawer and holding out her palm impatiently as I search through my pockets for my coins.

"Seven? But Peeta told me five-" I begin.

"I set the prices, not Peeta," she snaps back. "A personalized cake costs seven. We've already finished it, so pay up or I'll turn you into the Cray for stealing," she warns. My eyes go to the small five coins in my hands, and my stomach ties in a knot. Luckily, Gale quickly pulls out two more before slamming them down on the counter in front of her.

"Have a _fantastic _day," he spits before taking my arm and leading me towards the door.

I can barely hear Mrs. Mellark yelling at Peeta in the back as we leave. I can't make out what it's over, but two words distinctively catch my attention as Gale allows the door to swing shut behind us:

_Filthy whore. _

My eyes fix on the ground the rest of the walk home.

…

The look of pure surprise and happiness that fills Prim's eyes makes the whole debacle I'd just gone through at the bakery worth it. Gale sits across the table from me, a large smile plastered on his face as my sister throws herself into my arms, almost knocking me from my chair.

"Thank you, Katniss! It's beautiful!" she exclaims, hugging me so tight that I almost worry about the baby being squashed in utero.

"You're welcome, Prim," I mumble into her embrace with a laugh. My mother smiles as she sets out our finest plates and forks and hands Prim a knife to cut the cake with.

"It's so pretty, I almost don't want to cut into it," my sister says with a pout as she hovers over her cake reluctantly with the knife in her hand.

"Alright, I'll do it," Gale tells her, reaching out to grab one of the frosting flowers off the top of the cake before popping it into his mouth with a smirk.

"Hey!"

I sigh as Gale laughs. "Prim, just cut the thing. I spent every last coin I had on it."

Mother shakes her head. "So much for 'it's the thought that counts,'" she says with a grin as Prim begins to cut the cake into thin slices. And I decide the smiles and laughter that surround our dinner table that evening are well worth every single coin we'd spent on the cake.

…

Later that night after Prim has already gone off to bed, Gale and I relax on the top step of my porch as his hand rests on my belly, feeling the movement of his baby kicking inside of me. Although the baby is always most active at night, tonight he seems to be downright ornery, kicking and punching up a storm.

"Likes sweets," I inform him.

He smiles. "Yeah, I noticed that."

I lean back on my elbows, sighing softly as I look up at the moon while Gale hunches forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he plays with the long blade of grass that he holds between his fingers. "I heard what the baker's wife said when we were leaving," he begins lightly, sending me a sideways glance to study my reaction.

I bite my bottom lip as I struggle to sit back up. "It's not exactly the first time I've heard someone use that word to refer to me since this all happened, Gale."

He shrugs uncomfortably. "They really don't know you if they believe it," he begins. "_You_ don't believe it...do you?"

When I don't answer right away, he turns to me, cupping my chin in his fingers so that I'm staring directly into his eyes before placing a soft kiss onto my lips. "I'm sorry about all of this. I wish that I could make it easier for you."

"If you think that what people are saying about me bothers me, you obviously don't know me very well," I assure him.

"Catnip, I know you _too _well to believe you'd ever let me think that it did," he retorts. "I saw how uncomfortable you were when people in the square were staring at us, the look on your face when Mrs. Mellark said those words. Admitting that it hurts doesn't make you weak, you know."

"It doesn't matter, Gale," I go on. "It's only going to get harder after the baby is born, because their nasty comments won't be limited to us anymore," I tell him, my palm passing over my stomach. I honestly don't want to think about what a difficult life this child will have to live. Starvation, poverty, reapings, ridicule, a life probably spent down in the mines—all of the reasons why I never wanted children in the first place. But now that I can feel him or her kick and move inside of me, I can't help but to want it so badly. Want to keep it safe from everything bad in the world.

But over the past several months, I have quickly come to realize that it's not a possibility. Because all of those things are just a part of our everyday life here in District 12.


	16. Chapter 16

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 16_

I am standing in the square, looking across the mass of emaciated children who wait impatiently with weary faces and fear in their eyes, each one hoping desperately for their name not to be the one drawn. Gale is behind me, his hands gripping my shoulders strongly for support. I don't quite catch the first name of the child which Effie Trinket draws as the male tribute, but the last name Hawthorne is clearly amplified over the speakers that surround the square. He walks slowly to the stage, a faceless 12-year-old boy with dark skin and black hair who seems much to small for his age. His thin legs begin to scale the steps shakily as I call out to him in distress, but there's nothing I can do. That either of us can do. We are completely at their mercy.

Despite the hopelessness of the situation, Gale pushes through the crowd, enraged. Confusion takes over the onlookers, because nothing like this has ever happened at a reaping before. All I can do is watch helplessly as the group of spectating parents around us begin to grow unnerved. Soon, the father of the female tribute is pushing his way through the Peacekeepers as well, and a riot ensues. People begin yelling and shoving one-another violently. Gale just manages to make it to the stage, reaching out for our child and pulling him into his arms as a Peacekeeper draws his weapon, not hesitating to pull the trigger of the gun that kills them both.

My body hits the floor with a loud thud, sending shock waves through my spine. Falling out of bed in the middle of the night is one thing, falling out of bed in the middle of the night while six and a half months pregnant is quite another.

I'm still half-asleep and screaming when Prim rushes to my side to soothe me.

"It was just a dream, Katniss," she tells me as she grips my arms to keep me from flailing. "It was another nightmare. That's all."

Mother lights the oil lamp on the nearby nightstand before helping me back up into my bed. Her expression is worried, but she says nothing as she goes to get a cool cloth and a glass of water for me. I drink thirstily from the glass as she blots the beads of sweat from my forehead.

"What was it about this time?" Prim asks me uncertainly. I can tell that she's been debating whether talking about it would upset me more than choosing not to recollect on my very vivid nightmare. Right now, I'm thinking the latter would be best, but I oblige her anyway.

"It will be okay, Katniss," she assures me when I'm done with my tearful recap. "It was just a dream. Gale knows better than to mess with a Peacekeeper anyways. And, well, you won't even have to deal with that for another 12 years. Besides, there's so many names in the reaping bowl every year that it makes the chances of your baby being chosen pretty slim."

I realize that my little sister is trying desperately to make me feel better, but I still know that this nightmare isn't just my worst fear, it's a very real possibility. It's something that I eventually _will _have to deal with.

"Prim, go back to sleep," our mother finally tells her. "I'm going to give Katniss a once-over to make sure she's okay."

Prim nods drowsily as she climbs back into my mother's bed, where she had taken to sleeping as of late. With my growing waistline and my frequent nightmares, it's impossible for anyone sharing a bed with me to get any rest during the night.

"I'm fine," I assure her as she lies me back on the mattress. "It was just a short fall."

She nods, prodding at my belly anyhow. Something tells me that this isn't so much a checkup as it is a opportunity for us to talk. Honestly, I've been a wreck as of late. My back is always sore, my shoes pinch my feet, I wake at least five times a night to urinate, and I'm just not as sharp or as graceful as I used to be. Hazelle keeps assuring me that it's all normal for a pregnant woman to experience, and I guess a mother of four would know. But I don't even feel like I'm the same person anymore, and I hate it.

"Baby's head down now," my mother says with a smile.

"What does that mean?" I ask her, a bit wary.

She shrugs. "Just that we don't have to worry about him or her being born breech. Not that I haven't delivered one feet first before, but it does tend to pose a challenge."

"Can you really feel all of the different parts in there?" I ask her skeptically. "I can't decipher the kicks from the punches."

She takes my hand into hers, pushing down on a large floating lump at the side of my abdomen. "Feel that?" she asks me, and I nod. "That's its bottom. When you feel movement up in your ribs, that's the baby kicking his feet."

"So, that must be the head that's always pushing down on my bladder?" I ask, humorously.

"You did that to me, too," my mother says with a grin. "Darn near made me pee my pants most of the time."

I smile back at my mother, still trying to come to terms with the fact that I'll be making her a grandmother in a few short months. While she's aged a lot over the past five years, she still seems too young. I know that she doesn't handle anxiety well, and I have to wonder how much more pressure I've put on her by getting pregnant at the tender age of 16.

"Used to have the craziest dreams, too," she goes on, folding the washcloth and giving my a sideways glance.

"About what?" I ask her.

"Problems during childbirth, my family going hungry, _reapings_," she answers. "I know they seem very real right now, Katniss, but they're caused by pregnancy hormones. Your mind seems to hone in on your biggest fears and replay them in your head."

"How do you get rid of them?"

"Have your baby," she says with a small laugh. "It'll take awhile for your body to get back to normal, but they'll go away eventually."

I nod as my mother pulls the covers back over me and tucks me in like she used to do when I was a child. I haven't felt like a kid in forever, and I guess in a way I'll never experience that feeling again. _I'll _be the parent, and I can't help but to hope that the relationship I have with my child won't be as strained as the one I have with my mother right now. It's gotten better over time, but there's still a lot of unresolved resentment that I think I'll always have for her. I'm trying to get over it, both for the sake of my child and myself, but it isn't easy when the reminders of starvation and death are always present, especially every night in my dreams.

But maybe my mother knows what she's talking about with these nightmares being caused by pregnancy. My stupid hormones seem to be the cause of everything right now.

I try to clear my head and fall back asleep, but my mind is racing tonight. Time may get rid of the pregnancy hormones, but it will do nothing to stop my child from reaped into the Hunger Games.

…

With Gale being in the mines on Saturdays, I find myself helping my mother and Prim doing mundane things like cleaning the house and restocking the medical supplies. Before, they would send me into town once a week to purchase new supplies, but after Gale and my little spat with the baker's wife a couple of weeks ago, I try to avoid the merchant class as much as possible. I still go to school five days a week, and I don't think I can take any more torture than that.

So today I help my mother remove all the bandages, medical books, and herbal concoctions from the hutch in our kitchen before giving it a good dusting while Prim walks to town to get the supplies that we're running low on. This is why the money from the game we've sold to Sae and Cray and other residents is so important. While we can trade squirrels for bread and fish for salt, it's hard to find someone who will want to trade for bandages and gauze. And though my mother has a steady stream of patients from the Seam, not all of them can pay with actual money. Most of the time they give us what they can, weather it be a sack of potatoes or a beans or whatever they've managed to grow in their garden or make themselves. And my mother never has the heart to turn away anyone who needs medical attention, even if the only thing that they have to offer is the last thing we need.

It's some time around noon when there's a desperate knock at the door. Nella, a pregnant young lady who only lives a few houses down, is on the other side, her hand braced her back as she pants out in pain. It doesn't take a healer to figure out that she's in the late stages of labor. Mother ushers her in and tells me to spread one of the clean white linen cloths over the table.

I'd seen Nella around a lot lately. I probably wouldn't have noticed her so much before, but being pregnant, those who are in the same condition as myself manage to catch my attention more easily now. If I remember correctly, she's only a year ahead of Gale and just married early last year. Her father had died down in the mines when she was still in school and her mother fell ill a couple of years ago. She and her younger brother were in danger of starving, so she married right away. It's not an unusual arrangement here in the district, especially when marrying means securing yourself a home.

"How close together are the contractions?" my mother asks her as she eases her back onto our kitchen table, a place where more than a few babies have been born now that I think of it.

"I-I don't know," she admits. "Close together. I couldn't stand the pain anymore."

"Your husband...?"

"In the mines," she says breathlessly. "I was hoping he'd make it back in time. If he takes off now, he'll only get a half-day's wage."

Mother drapes another sheet over Nella's legs as she lies back on a stack of pillows. My mother works between her thighs for a second before pulling the sheet back down over her knees.

"You're close," she says. "Probably won't be long before you can start pushing."

Nella nods as another contraction hits her, and she whimpers through it. I stand back uncomfortably, because I'm not sure that this is something that I want to witness right now. In my own little delusional world, I've convinced myself that childbirth is no big deal. I've watched animals given birth effortlessly in the wild. And while I've witnessed many ladies in the earlier stages of labor, I've never stuck around long enough to see anyone actually push out a baby. I watch as Nella crumples the sheet that lies over her in her fists and contemplate holding her hand through the pain the same way that fathers always to do in books. On the other hand, I'm on the verge of tearing out of that door right now and disappearing into the woods until this is all over with.

"Should I go find Prim?" I finally ask my mother, who's busy grabbing supplies—a pair of medical forceps for cutting the umbilical cord and a metal bowl that she uses for disposing of the afterbirth. My stomach rolls at the thought of it.

"No, I need you here," she says, still moving about frantically but professionally as she takes out a stack of clean linens. "Might need your help getting her into a more comfortable birthing position when she starts to push," she adds as she grabs her suture kit and threads a needle before lying it to the side.

"What's that for?" I ask her.

My mother looks up at me, her mouth in a tight, thin line. "There's usually some tearing involved in labor, Katniss."

It takes me about a second to realize that she's not talking about fabric.

"I should go see if her husband's home. Maybe he's back by now, it being Saturday and all-" I begin, stepping back before my mother comes forward to catch me by my shoulders, stopping me.

"Katniss, I need you here today," she tells me in the same disciplinary tone she often used with me when I was little. "I know that you don't think this is something you're ready for, but it might be good for you to experience it. Knowing what will happen will make labor a lot less scary for yourself." I'm still shaking my head as she gives me a reassuring smile. "There's nothing to be scared of, having a baby is completely natural. Women have been giving birth for hundreds of thousands of years." And then she adds in a hushed voice, "You need to pull it together, because you're going to make Nella a lot more anxious than she needs to be right now, and that won't be good for anyone."

About the time when I begin to wonder if I should start boiling water for whatever reason people do, my mother tells Nella that it's time for her to start pushing. I try to look away as I help my mother hold the young woman's knee up against her body as she bears down during a contraction, hoping that I can get through this with seeing as little blood as possible. This goes on for awhile, and after 45 minutes of pushing, Nella looks utterly exhausted. I don't miss the way that my mother's eyebrows draw together in concentration—the same look that always reaches her eyes when she realizes something may be beyond her ability to help.

"What's wrong?" I ask her before thinking, and the young lady at my side tenses visibly.

Mother bites her lip, still frowning. Nella's lying back, panting with exhaustion and too tired to speak.

"The baby seems to be stuck in the birth canal. Chances are her pelvis is too small for the child to fit through..." she trails off and shakes her head.

My eyes widen when I realize what my mother is telling me: The baby isn't going to come out. It's going to die in it's mother's womb, probably killing her along with it. I'd heard about real doctors who can remove the baby surgically, but my mother isn't capable of anything like that. You have to have special tools and machinery just to keep the patient alive.

"There's nothing you can do?" I ask her.

Her eyes flit to mine. "I have to break the baby's collarbone. It's not something I've ever had to do, but we don't have a choice. That baby won't be able to come out otherwise."

I grimace at the idea of it, and now Nella is sobbing uncontrollably at the idea of her baby being born with broken bones. I finally get over my fear of blood and potential death long enough to reach out and take the young woman's clammy, trembling hand into my own, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Please, I don't want you to hurt the baby," she pleads, and I can feel her fingernails digging into my skin as another contraction hits. Mother waits for it to pass before reassuring her.

"We have to, Nella, The baby could be in distress right now. We have to get her out before things get worse," she tells the young woman soothingly, brushing her long hair from her sweat-soaked face. "A collarbone will eventually heal, but there's nothing I can do for either of you if we _don't _do this."

Nella finally gives a consensual nod before my mother goes into action. All I can do is squeeze my eyes shut as it happens, trying to drown out the agonizing scream of the young mother-to-be at my side. A few more pushes and all is quiet until the wails of an infant fills the room. I open my eyes just long enough to take in the site before me, a smiling mother and her screaming—but very much alive—infant daughter. Without waiting to be excused, I finally allow Nella's hand to slip from my grasp before walking directly outside and collapsing down onto the porch of our home.

…

My mother doesn't bother to fetch me from the porch, and when I finally see Prim making her way towards our house with a bag of supplies, I make to leave.

"What's going on?" she asks me, noticing the distress in my features.

"Mother just delivered Nella Bonworth's baby. You might want to hurry to see if she needs your help in there," I say monotonously. I can tell that Prim wants to ask why I'm so shaken, but instead walks briskly up onto the porch and through the door to help our mother.

I wander through the Seam for awhile, contemplating whether I should risk going into the woods by myself. I could check the snare lines, gather some of walnuts, maybe even attempt to shoot something, though my belly easily gets in the way of drawing back my bow these days. I consider going to Gale's, but I know he isn't home now. So instead I wander for a couple of hours until my feet grow tired and my stomach begins to growl. The sun has begun to set as I finally make my way to the cluster of houses where the Hawthorne home sits.

The windows are lit as I scale the steps of the porch where Gale leans against the railing talking to Thom. They're both still covered in soot and they look exhausted. The scent of stew wafts from an open window, causing my stomach to growl.

"Hey," Gale offers me a smile when he sees me. When I don't return it, his brows draw together. "Everything okay?'

I nod dumbly. "I just-You haven't been over in a few days."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "Things have been hectic at work this week. We lost a couple of men last week-" he begins to say, and then winces, stopping himself. "We're short-staffed. I've been putting in extra hours. More money, you know?"

I nod, glancing towards Thom, who's gaze rests on my stomach. I guess it's the first time in awhile that I've seen him, and I got big fast.

"Are you okay?" Gale goes on. "I wanted to come see you tonight, but I figured we'd be heading to the lake first thing in the morning anyways."

"I'm fine," I answer, pausing. "I helped my mother deliver a baby today."

"Is that so?" Gale asks with an amused smile. We both know how I feel about helping my mother with her sick or injured patients. I guess it _would_ have been entertaining to think about.

"Baby got stuck in the birth canal," I say quietly. "Had to break her collarbone to get her out."

Gale's smile fades quickly at my words, and Thom shifts uncomfortably where he stands. "I should go," Gale's co-worker finally says, obviously noting the uncomfortable turn in conversation. "It's been a long day."

Gale nods, placing his hand on the small of my back once Thom has disappeared into the shadows before veering me to take a seat on the bench that sits on his front porch.

"Was the baby alright?" he asks.

I nod. And then shrug. "She was alive, but I left as soon as I could. My mother said there wasn't much else she could do. I guess they just have to swaddle the baby extra tight until she heals."

"It's a good thing then," Gale assures me. "Your mother dealt with the situation well."

"I suppose..."

There's a long pause when neither of us says anything.

"You're not okay, are you?" he asks, noting how I've begun to gnaw on my fingernails.

I shrug, looking down at my lap. When I feel Gale move to brush the braid from my shoulder, I finally look up to meet his gaze. "I'm scared," I finally admit to him.

"Katniss," he whispers, tugging me towards him. "You'll be alright. Nothing bad is going to happen, okay? You have a family of healers living with you. Between your mother and Prim, delivering this baby should be a breeze."

"Posy almost died," I remind him in a whisper.

"My mother didn't have anyone to help her with Posy except for me, and some help a 14-year-old kid is anyways. Besides, she came out backwards with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck."

Yes, because my mother—the only affordable healer available for those living in the Seam—was too far gone at the time to even take care of herself, let alone anyone else. She couldn't even see that her own daughters were starving to death, or maybe she just didn't care. The thought makes my blood boil.

"Your mother probably knows what to do when those sort of things happen," he goes on to explain. "I mean, she just delivered a baby who most likely wouldn't have made it otherwise. And the mother probably would've died, too."

"It's not just that, though..." I pause uncertainly, finally pulling my fingertips away from my teeth. "The reapings. The mines. The dying animals. I have nightmares about them every night, Gale. There's so many things working against us right now. My mother tells me that these dreams I keep having are hormone-related, but I'm starting to believe that they're something more. What if something happens to you? Or to me? What if our child starves? Even when there was actual game to be killed, we still went hungry a lot of the time. Now we'll have another mouth to feed, another person to support. People die in the mines all the-"

"Katniss," Gale says, his hands holding my forearms securely to break me from my self-pitying. "Listen to me: Everything is going to be okay. We have the lake and I have my job. Our baby will never sign up for tesserae, so her chances of being chosen will be slim okay?"

"What about me? I still have two more reapings to endure."

His grip on me eases at my question, but I can still see the doubt in his eyes.

"You'll be, too."

There's no real certainty that I won't be picked, what with my 20-plus slips in the bowl. But I know that at least with Gale being past reaping age, this child will always have one parent to care for it. As long as he doesn't get himself blown up down in the mines, that is. One of us will just have to stay alive until this kid is grown. It's really his or her only chance.

I stay at Gale's house that night after Hazelle suggests to Rory and Vick that they camp out in the sitting room so that we can sleep together. Nothing happens of course, not with all of those kids and Gale's mother under the same roof. I allow Gale to wrap me into his arms arms which, while comforting, does little to ward away the nightmares that still mercilessly plague my sleep.

…

We set out early first thing the next morning, both of us eager to breathe in the clean air that surrounds the lake and kill some fresh game. Our journey there takes a lot out of me, and we have to move slow. I trip and stumble a lot through the woods, but Gale is always ready to catch me when I do. I know that my days out here are limited now, though he doesn't bring it up. It's finally gotten to the point where I'm no real help when it comes to hunting _or _gathering. It's hard to bend over now, and even more difficult to stand back upright. I think that the only reason that Gale still allows me to tag along is because it makes me feel happy and useful, even though the reality of the latter is in question.

After our excruciating three-and-a-half-hour hike there, I'm exhausted. But I can't wait to soak my aching feet into the clean, cool water of the lake and perhaps do a bit of fishing while I relax, letting Gale take down bigger game that come to the lake to drink and look for food with his bow.

We're only about a quarter mile from the lake when a strange scent hits me—something like a mixture of stagnant water and rotting garbage. It's hard to pinpoint, and it's very faint, but it's definitely there. After walking quietly together several yards more, Gale's arm comes out to bring me to a stop.

"Wha-"

"Shh," he shushes me, not moving. "Do you hear anything?"

I shake my head. "No. Nothing."

"Exactly."

I shake my head at him, not understanding, until I realize that every time we've been to the lake it has been filled with the sounds of wildlife. Gale remains silent for a second, and I don't miss the look that crosses his face—fear, shock, _dread. _He lugs his bow up onto his shoulder before tucking me behind his back and proceeding through the tall, withering grass that surrounds the lake before coming to a dead stop.

"Gale, wha-" I begin as I peak around his shoulder to see what has caused him to stop walking so suddenly, and all at once I forget how to breathe.

The water in the lake is an eerie shade of green, small sud-like bubbles collecting on its banks. The fish that once inhabited it—literally thousands—are all floating belly-up on the water, dead. Whatever plant life had surrounded the lake is now shriveled, having turned brown and dry. But what is even more shocking, perhaps, are the remains of the little house on the edge of the lake, which has been burnt to the ground. A small amount of smoke from what was once a raging fire still manages to billow up from the leveled structure, the remnants of our stashed hunting supplies having been incinerated along with it.


	17. Chapter 17

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 17_

I'm wrapped in his arms as we both attempt to catch our breath, myself more so than him. The physical exertion has taken a lot out of my already tired body. Gale smiles with closed eyes as I nuzzle into his neck, and we take full advantage of our first time alone—_really _alone—together in a long time.

"I'm getting to big for this," I mumble against his shoulder, and I can feel his chest vibrate with laughter.

"Never."

I push away, shaking my head at him. "No, really. I'm getting too large to comfortably do anything anymore."

"Really? You didn't _seem_ uncomfortable," he says with a simper.

I smile, choosing to ignore his cocky retort. "We're in your room, Gale," I hiss. "You're little brothers sleep in a bed five feet from here."

Gale grins as he presses his forehead against my own. "Yes, Catnip. But _no one _is here right now. The boys are off doing whatever, and my mother and Posy are collecting laundry. And, well, were together. We have nothing to be ashamed of."

I guess that's the ironic part of his statement. Maybe we aren't ashamed, but everyone else in the district seems to think that we should be. So maybe this baby that I'm carrying makes the obvious statement that he and I have been doing a lot more in the woods than hunting over the past seven months, but we're not even certain where we stand right now, even if we _are_ together. We'd skipped over the usual process of dating and marriage, getting right to the task of starting a family. My mother had asked me just last week what my child's last name will be. It seemed like a ridiculous question until I realized that once I give him Gale's surname, I won't even share a family name with my own child.

And then there's the living situation. I'm spending more nights with Gale now, but things won't be the same once I have a baby. I'll have to choose between living with my mother or with Gale's family, who don't seem to have enough room to spare as it is. I can't go crating a crib back and forth across the Seam after all. We're close enough that maybe it won't matter, but is this the way I want my child growing up?

"You alright?" Gale asks when I finally pull away from him. "Hungry?"

"I'm okay."

Our relationship seems like such a silly thing to be occupying my mind right now, considering what just happened two weeks ago. Our Sundays have become much too lazy now that there's nothing to be hunted. We can still forage, but I think both Gale and I are a little too nervous to venture beyond the fence after witnessing what we saw out there by the lake that day. There's no doubt that the Capitol is aware of poachers on their land. That's why they had torched the little house along with everything in it—our homemade seine, hunting knives, and Gale's father's old fishing pole. We'd been left with nothing but the old bows my own father had made years ago, which are still stored in the hollow log outside the opening in the fence. But it's doubtful that we'll ever get use out of them again. Poaching is punishable by death, and though we're beginning to struggle, it's just not worth the risk.

Gale places a quick kiss onto my forehead before sitting up to dress himself. I search through the tangle of blankets on the bed for my clothing before pulling my mother's old maternity dress over my head. My stomach growls, but I try hard not to think too much about it. I'd eaten the same amount as everyone else this morning, but my appetite is veracious now that I'm in my last trimester. I can already feel the toll that the last few days of rationing food has begun to take to me. I always feel shaky and break out into a cold sweat when there isn't enough, which has been too often as of late.

Gale is still shirtless, fiddling with the buckle of his belt when the front door is thrown open and Posy comes bolting into the room, flinging herself into his arms. He lets out a slight chuckle as Hazelle follows her through the door just as I'm smoothing out my stockings, coming to a sudden stop when she realizes how we've been spending our afternoon together.

But sweet little Posy most certainly doesn't make the connection. "Look what the baker gave me," she chirps happily, opening her hand to reveal a slightly crumbled sugar cookie, brilliantly decorated as a poppy with brightly-colored red frosting and even little black sprinkles that serve as the seeds.

"Well, look at that. What'd you have to trade?" Gale asks her, and she beams.

"A smile."

"Then you got off easy," he tells his baby sister. "I have to shoot three squirrels just to get a loaf of bread. My smile never gets me anything."

"That's because you hardly ever use it," I pipe up.

Gale settles Posy back down the the floor, and the little girl runs out of the house with her treasured confection in hand. Hazelle is still standing cross-armed, giving Gale a pointed look as he tugs his shirt on over his head. "Didn't think you'd be back so soon," he remarks casually. There's no lying to his mother, she already knows why Gale is dressing himself in the middle of the afternoon and why my clothing and hair are so messy.

"That's apparent," Hazelle tells him, leaning down to pick up a dirty pile of Rory and Vick's clothing from the floor. "Why don't you see Katniss to the door, I need to talk to you before dinner."

Gale scratches the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "I figured maybe Katniss could stay over again for dinner. I went to the butcher's today and-"

"Gale," his mother warns.

"Alright. Catnip, let me send you home with something," he says to me, digging into the icebox which stands in his kitchen but has long been void of any ice. They stopped delivering it to the Seam long ago—much too costly for us.

"Is she angry with me?" I finally whisper once he halves a chunk of horse meat and wraps it for me. "Because I didn-"

"No, no," he assures me, placing the palms of his hands on my shoulders. "It's nothing, Catnip. She understands our...arrangement. I mean, we're together now and everything, but..."

"But she doesn't really want us to be _together_?"

"Not in that way, no. Not right now, anyways. Look, it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them," he assures me, implying the example we've been setting for his younger brothers and sister. "She's very...traditional. Married her first boyfriend at 18 and figured that we'd become something more before the baby was born."

"Oh."

So Hazelle doesn't approve of her future grandchild's illegitimacy? Not that I can blame her. I haven't exactly made the best choices considering where I come from; nor had I set the best example for my own little sister.

Gale places his knife down on the table as I stare down at my belly.

"Hey," he tells me, cupping my chin so that I meet his eyes. "Don't think too much of it, okay? My mother _likes_ you, she really does, Catnip. Don't think any less of yourself, it's me she's got a problem with. Understand?"

I nod, but I still don't feel very good about any of this. The one person who's support I thought we had throughout this isn't very happy with what we'd done after all.

Gale hands me the small package of meat. "I'm sorry that it isn't much. Butcher meat cost about three or four times what we usually get for anything we kill. Make a stew with it or something to spread it out." He lets out a deep sigh. "I'll get you more next week. Take on more hours at work if I have to."

"There's only 24 hours in a day, Gale," I remind him with a sad grin. If he works any more than he does right now, he won't be coming home to sleep. But Gale just shrugs before leaning forward to place a quick kiss onto my lips.

"I'll come by to check on you tomorrow after work, okay?"

I nod, slipping on my jacket and taking my meager cut of meat with me as I turn to leave.

…

"Katniss?"

"Hm?"

"Do you love Gale?"

The pot I'm filling with water from the hand pump in our kitchen drops from my fingertips at my little sister's inquiry as she stares up at me curiously with her light blue eyes. I'm not sure why it feels as if the question came out of nowhere, because it's an entirely feasible one to be directed towards a girl who's not only in an intimate relationship her childhood best friend, but also having his baby.

Prim quickly grabs a towel to mop up the water that has spilled on the floor as I pace about the kitchen, grabbing the the root vegetables and dried herbs—the only things we now have left in terms of produce since the whether has started to turn cold.

"Katniss?" she asks me again, unhappy that I've ignored her question.

"I-I don't know, Prim," I answer honestly. I guess I could just tell her that we're in love as to set a good example of how you shouldn't really _be _with a boy unless you love him, but I've never been one to lie to my sister when she's seeking an honest answer.

"How can you not know?" Prim asks. "I know that I love you and Mother. If I loved a boy, I'm pretty certain I'd know it."

"I-It's not that simple," my voice wavers.

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't," I reply a little too loudly and irritably. I sigh as my little sister jumps back at my sudden outburst. "We're talking about a different kind of love, Prim. I love you and Mother, too. I even love Gale in that same way. But, the kind that you're asking about—it's something special. It's the type you can only have for one person_. _And, well, I just don't know."

"Are there other boys that you think of?"

I wince. She's just not going to let this go, and it seems like the harder I attempt to answer her questions truthfully, the deeper I've dug this hole.

"No. There's no one else, Prim."

Prim shrugs, moving to crush the dried herbs. I feel relieved when I think she's given up on this conversation until she says, "But you're having his baby. You don't do that with someone unless you love them."

"I suppose that should be true..." I mutter as I begin to chop the vegetables.

"Well, Gale loves you," she states with certainty, and I'm so surprised at how casual she says it that I almost succeed at cutting off my fingertip.

"What makes you say that?" I ask her, trying to contain the blush that has spread over my cheeks.

"Lots of things," she answers. "The way he looks at you when you're not paying attention. How he comes by almost every night after work just to see how you're feeling. The fact that he always ladles more stew into your bowl than his own," she adds with a giggle.

"I am eating for two," I point out.

"Yes, but he's always done that."

I shake my head at my sister, smiling. "Yes, because serving your girl up extra stew is a sure sign of true love."

Prim smiles back up at me sheepishly. "It's the little things that count, Katniss."

…

Things at school haven't gotten any better, and I don't expect them to. Not only am I the one person who can't abide by the school's dress code with my outdated large-print floral maternity dresses, but as of a couple weeks ago, I am no longer able to fit into the desks either. The math teacher even had to pull a special table and chair out of storage for me when she saw how uncomfortable I've grown being squeezed into a confining desk for 45 minutes.

And as if I didn't already feel humiliated enough standing out like the sore thumb that I am, today in class, Burritt Price, the grocer's son and school prankster, pulled my chair out from beneath me when I went to sit down. I tumbled to the hard floor with an oof, practically breaking my tailbone in the process. Half of my classmates erupted in laughter, my inability to get myself up off the floor making them chuckle even more uncontrollably. But Peeta was rushing to my side in an instant, helping me up and taking away what little was left of my dignity.

"Are you okay, Katniss?" he'd asked me, but I couldn't even look at him. Instead, I buried my face into my math book for the rest of the period, attempting to ignore the snickering and hushed whispers that surrounded me.

I try not to think about the entire incident or the pain which now radiates throughout my spine during lunch. Instead, I ease my sore self down at my usual table empty-handed. I'd sent what little food there was left over from dinner last night to school with Prim. I remember how it feels to be her age, and the shame that comes with not having anything to bring to lunch—a shame that seems to be so much worse when you're in middle school and everyone makes a big deal out of what you do—or _don't_—have to eat. The whole thing is ridiculous now that I think about it, but I'd rather her not have to deal with the teasing and feeling of inadequacy that I've had to today.

My stomach growls loudly as I slouch in my seat and rest my face in the palms of my hands, trying to keep my emotions from getting the best of me. I'm not going to think about the lack of food or all of the kids who find my unfortunate situation so humorous. But it's hard not to focus on the bad when all of the good seems to have gone away.

I feel like I need to cry, but I won't. The only thing bursting into sobs will accomplish right now is drawing more attention and ridicule towards myself. I am already a weakling to my peers, a joke of a girl. Stupid for not being able to control myself enough to keep from getting pregnant so young, and a disgrace to everyone in the Seam. Slut and trollop have often been used to describe the mining class women, even though the merchant class aren't any better. There's plenty of girls who don't wait until marriage, but there's only a handful of us who carry physical proof of it—whether in our bellies or our arms—around for everyone to see.

It's difficult to ignore the taunting aroma of food that wafts over from the merchant kids' table. I am shaky and weak and the only thing I feel like doing is going home and taking a nap so I don't have to think about how hungry I am.

A hand clasping on my forearm finally causes me to unbury my face from the palms of my hands to see that Madge has taken her usual spot next to me.

"No lunch again?"

I shake my head, almost angry that she's made me admit to it. Without a second word, Madge opens her pretty tin lunch box and places a sandwich before me. I open my mouth to protest, but she shakes her head incessantly at me.

"Please, Katniss," she mutters under her breath so that no one else can hear. "You look sick. Just take it."

Hunger is not a foreign feeling to me, and it's still hard to accept handouts from people without feeling like I'm in debt to them. I don't want to be in debt to Peeta or Madge or anyone else. I want to be able to go out into the woods and provide for myself and my family, but the Capitol has taken that privilege away. It shouldn't be a privilege, but it is. The only thing keeping us alive right now is my mother's apothecary business and Gale's job in the mines. But his meager paycheck is being spread out over eight people—too many mouths to feed and not enough money. Not enough to purchase our produce and meat in town anyway.

I eat my sandwich slowly, and it seems to make Madge happy. I want to tell her about what's going on in the woods, about the lake and the dying animals. But even though her father is the mayor, chances are he's not even aware of what's happening beyond the fence. And, even if he was, there's probably not a damn thing he could do about it.

…

"We shouldn't be doing this again," I say breathlessly as Gale moves beneath the large blanket spread across his bed, bending down to place a quick peck on the tip of my nose before drawing me against his chest.

"My mother's gone for the day."

"That's what you said last time."

We really do have too much time on our hands these days, I think to myself as I bring the palm of my hand up to smooth over the rough stubble of his jawline. I may be getting large and disgusting, but Gale is just as beautiful as ever. He smiles at me, taking my hand into his own and placing a tender kiss on my knuckles.

"Your mother got mad at you last week, didn't she?"

With a slight smile, he nods. "We had a talk."

"About?"

Gale doesn't answer me right away, just lies on his side staring into my eyes. "Things."

I look at him with question as he finally moves from his place beside me and begins to redress himself.

"Well," I reply. "That's vague."

"She wants to know how things are going to be between us afterwards," he tells me over his shoulder as he pulls his pants back on. "I mean, it's fine the way it is now, but we're going to be parents, you know? I guess she just needs to know that I'm going to be around for this kid."

I watch as he grabs his shirt up from the bed.

"You already said you were," I begin cautiously, and Gale's eyes widen when he hears the uncertainty in my voice.

"No, no! Of course I am, Catnip. It's just," he begins, running his fingers through his dark hair. "We're practically living different lives right now on separate sides of the Seam. I try to be there as much as I can for you, but hours at work are long and we don't even live together. You and the baby will be under one roof, and myself under another. It's not...ideal."

"I'll bring him over to see you, Gale. Whenever you want to."

"I know, I know," he says with a sigh. "But I don't want to be a distant father. We both know what it's like to grow up without a father in the house." Gale pauses, swallowing hard before continuing. "I want to be there. Not just a couple of times a week, but every morning when she wakes up and every evening when she goes to bed. Read her bedtime stories and be able to check on her in the middle of the night. That's the way it's supposed to be."

I sit up on my elbows, nodding slightly in agreement. "Maybe we can work something out?" I ask him. "I could move in here, or maybe you could move in with my family."

"We both know that it won't work, Katniss," he says earnestly. "Not enough room here, and I'm pretty certain your mother wouldn't approve of us all under her roof. She can barely look me straight in the eye right now the way it is."

"I can talk to her," I offer.

"We'd be stepping on toes, you know that. You," Gale says, bending down to pass the palm of his hand over my bare stomach before placing a kiss there, "are my family now. We need to start our own life together. Alone."

I stare back at him, still not quite understanding what he's telling me. He's already ruled out every option available—living apart, living together. For a second I think that he's gone back to the idea of running away. But the next words that leave his mouth come as just as big of a shock as his last idea.

"Which has got me thinking..." he goes on, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he looks away. "Well, thinking that we should probably get married."

I'm too shocked to even reply.

I never see these things coming. Why don't I ever see these things coming?


	18. Chapter 18

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 18_

I have always commended myself on my ability to predict animal behavior. I know when a dove is about to take flight by the whistling noises that it makes. I know where to find rabbits by the birds of prey that perch themselves on the tree branches above the shrubbery where they hide. I know that a deer feels it is safe to graze free from predators by the flick of its tail. Or that fish always gather around shady areas where the trees grow along the river bank.

But somehow I am never able to predict human behavior. Whenever these things happen, they always come as a complete surprise. Even from Gale, who has always been much like a part of my family and who I feel I know as well as my own mother and sister.

I have to shake myself from my wandering thoughts when I realize that he's still staring at me from across the bed with those dark gray Seam eyes. But I'm only focusing on his lips which have formed a tense straight line across his face. He's not saying anything, only waiting for me to say something—_anything—_to break the uncomfortable silence in the room_. _Just some sort of acknowledgment that I'm processing what he's just proposed to me. Something that I never thought I'd even have the opportunity to consider:

_Marriage._

I'd have to say that if I had ever fantasized about what this moment would be like, it most definitely would have not been like this. I may not be the romantic type, but even I know there are better ways to ask for a girl's hand in marriage than summing it up to convenience.

Blinking, I throw back the covers on the bed and, with much effort, manage to bring myself up to a sitting position before beginning to tug my undergarments back on.

"Katniss?" he asks warily from his side of the bed.

Gale's seen me naked on numerous occasions, but I feel so exposed and vulnerable right now as he watches me dress from where he lies under the covers of his bed. Refusing to answer him, I begin to tug my socks on, and finally he sits up to gently grasp my arm.

"Are you going to say something?" he asks me, his wavering voice an indication of his nervousness.

We've both talked about getting married before, about starting families. Not with each other obviously, but I had clearly explained to him how I never wished to marry. I realize that everything has changed since then and that the only reason I never wanted a husband was because I didn't want to bring a child into this world. But I have to wonder, why after almost five months of knowing about the baby does he suddenly decide we need to be married?

Is this something Hazelle is making him do? He'd admitted to me that his mother wants us to be more for the sake of her grandchild.

Or maybe something my own mother is guilting him into doing? She hadn't exactly been the friendliest person towards him since she'd found out.

These sort of ideas don't just pop up out of nowhere.

I stand up and begin to pull my jacket on when Gale jumps from the bed to bolt after me.

"Katniss, I don't get it. Why are you so mad?" he calls after me, quickly pulling his shorts back on before following me to the doorway.

"Why?" I turn around to ask him. Confused, he frowns, shaking his head. "Why do you want to marry me?"

There's a slight pause when my question takes him by surprise.

"Katniss, we're having a _baby _together. You live on the other side of the Seam; it isn't fair to me! I mean, when will I ever get to see this kid? Maybe an hour in the evening when I come back from the mines?" His hand clasps firmly on my forearm, keeping me from leaving. "If we marry, then we can have our own house. Our own lives."

"So that's what it is then? It's just more convenient for you if we marry."

"Yes," Gale begins, but then quickly shakes his head. "No! There's other reasons. Don't tell me your life hasn't been _hell _since this all happened. I know about the way that they treat you at school, what the people in town say behind your back. If we get married, we can be a _real _family. They'll issue us a house and we'll have our own space without our mothers intervening. This will make it easier on you, on me, on all three of us. I _want_ to raise this baby with you."

The next question that I ask him is one I'm not certain I want to know the answer to, but I can't leave it alone anymore. A part of me knows that this relationship is based on the mistake we made in the meadow. That none of this is what Gale had ever envisioned for his future.

"I want you to be honest with me," I quietly plead with him. "Would you be asking me to marry you right now if it weren't for the baby?"

There's an uneasy silence, and I can tell that Gale is struggling whether or not to tell me the truth.

"No..." he answers honestly, and I instantly tug away from him. "Katniss, I got you pregnant when you were _fifteen_. I never would have planned for that. So we have to move things a little more quickly than we'd liked? That doesn't mean that I want this any less."

I can feel tears stinging my eyes, but I swallow them away in an attempt to keep my composure. "So if you would've knocked up Athena Russel or the Alderman's niece instead, you'd be asking them the same thing?"

His mouth gaping in shock, Gale shakes his head.

"What are you _talking_ about?" he asks me a bit too innocently. But I can see the guilt in his eyes—his reaction to the obvious truth of my statement.

"I know all about it, Gale. I overheard someone talking at school, saw you behind the Hob with Athena months ago with my own two eyes. Where you with anyone after me? Where you with Athena?" I manage to choke out. His expression softens and he adverts his eyes away from my gaze. "Well?" I ask him again.

"Katniss..." he says in a low voice, still looking at his bare feet. "It was..._different_ with you."

"So I wasn't supposed to be like on of your merchant girls?" I ask him, not bothering trying to hold back my tears any longer. I bring my wrist up to my face to wipe them away. "Who knows how many there's been."

"It was never like that for me when I was with you!" he says, finally looking up at me while raising his voice. "How can you even think that it was? In case you've forgotten, I didn't _know_ you were pregnant. Do you really think I would have done those things if I did? How was I even supposed realize it, Katniss? You were _hiding _this all from me!"

And for the first time since I met the underfed, frightened 14-year-old boy deep in the woods outside the district, Gale Hawthorne actually looks vulnerable. But at the same time, he doesn't even see everything that is _wrong _about his proposal and his reasons behind it. All that he cares about is doing the right thing, even if it's for all the wrong reasons.

"That's the worst part," I mutter. "You're not doing any of this because you want to. You're doing it because you _have_ to."

Gale shakes his head at me in disbelief. "So this is what finally tears us apart then? A marriage proposal?"

Tears trail down my face as I nod my head, and when I go to leave, he doesn't try to follow.

…

The forest outside the district is quiet this time of year. There's more room for thinking. Most of the trees' leaves have already changed into brilliant shades of autumn, and others are completely bare. The air is crisp and cool, and soon the weather will grow cold. My child is due sometime around the start of winter, which makes this whole predicament even harder. Everyone is often much hungrier in the wintertime, as there is less game and food all-around. The nourishment that I need to feed the baby after he is born is already diminishing, leaving me underweight and frail.

I carry my bow for protection, but I know that I can't shoot with any sort of precision anymore. I walk as softly as I can through the woods, listening intently for predators. I know that it's not safe out here, but nothing really seems to matter anymore. We'll all die eventually—Gale, myself, our families—whether it be in the mines, from disease, in the Games, or of starvation; we will all perish young. Rarely does anyone in the Seam live long enough to die from the ailments of old age. There's no hope for any of us here. I know that I'll love my baby more than anything, but I've already failed him by bringing him into a world where there's no future for him.

I walk the snare line only because I haven't walked it in so long. I decide to make good use of my time by working to reset the snares that have remained untouched for weeks. My hands don't work as well as they once did, my joints swollen from the late stages of pregnancy. I trip a few times, but pick myself back up and dust myself off. Afterwards, I sit at Gale and my usual meeting place, shelling walnuts at dinnertime and watching the sun set behind the treeline as I think back to when things were so much simpler.

What Gale and I once had was special. Brought together by the common bond of trying to keep our families alive, we understood each other so well. But now I don't feel like I know him at all. I don't understand how he can talk about marriage knowing that I've never wanted it. How he can act as if being husband and wife will fix all of our problems.

His intentions are good, but I can't ignore what truly brought on the talk of living the rest our lives together. I know how it feels to owe someone, to feel like you need to do something to pay them back. I don't want Gale to feel like he owes me anything, or that he has to marry me because of the consequences that arose from what happened between us. Neither one of us is to blame any more than the other. I never asked anything of the sort from him, never expected it. And yet he feels so obligated to fulfill this favor to me.

It's dark when I set back to the fence that borders District 12. I use the gap in the barrier that's closest to town, since it's the biggest and squeezing through the fence in my condition is hard enough the way it is. When I stop to listen for the hum of electricity, I hear a slight buzz radiating through the chain link. Brows creasing together, I realize that it has been months since I'd found myself trapped outside the fence, and with the sun sinking down, I know this is not a good place for me to be stranded right now.

I don't have much of a choice though. My feet aching from my walk through the woods, I sit down at the base of a tree and lean my back against it to take the pressure off my swollen feet and ankles. My mouth is dry from not having had anything to drink all evening since I didn't bring a canteen along. There's a spring that runs not too far from the district, but with all the tampering going on with the water supplies, I can't take any chances by drinking from it. So I spend the next few of hours ignoring my intense thirst and trying to fight off sleep before realizing the power to the fence isn't going to be shut off anytime soon.

The already cool temperature had dropped significantly with the setting sun, and I mentally chastise myself for ending up in this position—alone, cold, and thirsty with no form of protection against any wild animal that might decide to attack. The woods are much more dangerous at night when the nocturnal predators come out, and for that reason Gale and I had never went beyond the fence after dark without the other to watch our back. It just isn't safe.

Now chilled to the bone, I eventually pick myself up and begin a slow trek towards the fence opening next to the Seam. Surely Prim or Gale will come searching for me, most likely already have. There's nothing they can do about turning the power off, but at least they'll know that I'm safe.

Worn out and tired, I make myself comfortable near my usual entrance in the fence. I can see the dim light of oil lamps pouring out of the windows of the homes in the distance and wonder if my family is panicking now that I haven't returned. Or if maybe Gale is somewhere further down the length of the fence calling my name.

The time I spend waiting passes slowly. The electricity is still on hours later and no one has shown up looking for me. It's at this point that I realize Mother and Prim must assume that I am staying with Gale tonight, and vise-verse. No one is coming for me tonight.

The thought of sleeping out here alone for the first time while pregnant is not a welcomed one, and I quietly hope to myself that the power to the fence goes off soon.

It must be around midnight now, and can't seem to keep my eyelids from drooping. I can't climb a tree to sleep in like the night Gale and I had been trapped out here, and falling asleep on the ground probably isn't the best idea. But I don't have a choice in the matter. There's no way I can keep myself awake all night even if I try. With a sigh, I shrug out of my father's old hunting jacket and lie down on a nest of dead leaves and dried-up weeds, draping the worn leather garment across my torso and taking in what little warmth it manages to offer. At least I know that it's relatively safer next to the fence since most animals tend to be wary of it.

My night is an uncomfortable and restless one. My "practice contractions" become more frequent, drawing fear and anxiety and causing an uncomfortable amount of pressure on my pelvic bone. I'm not close to term yet; I still have about six weeks left. I try to remind myself that this can't be labor and that a baby born too early has a pretty low rate of survival here.

And that there's no one around to help me if I do go into labor right now.

I worry about all sorts of things until the sun has begun to rise and I hope desperately that someone realizes that I've been missing for the past 12 hours.

But my hopes are dashed when I spend the rest of the day trying to ignore the irregular but uncomfortable contractions that persist while listening to the soft hum of the electrified fence that imprisons me.


	19. Chapter 19

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 19_

My tongue is dry and sticks the roof of my mouth as I brace my lower back with my hand. I pace back and forth along the fence, the bright noonday sun beating down overhead. Every bone in my body aches from my restless night's sleep on the hard ground. My stomach growls from being so empty for so long, and I am in dire need of water.

It's noon now, and I know that chances are no one will be looking for me for awhile. Gale's at work; Prim at school. My mom is none-the-wiser, probably assuming I'd left for school straight from the Hawthorne home as I often do when I find myself spending the night there.

It's probably been an hour since my last contraction hit, and I find myself feeling it again. Bracing myself against the trunk of a nearby tree, I grimace through the pain, letting out a painful yelp.

As much as I've tried to keep myself calm and collective through all of this, my anxiety is getting the best of me. I'm exhausted and alone and I've never been so frightened in my life. But my contractions are far apart and irregular, which means if this is labor, I have hours to go.

I can't get past the power in the fence being on. It's never been active this long before, at least not that I can remember. I assumed it would have been turned off by now, which only makes me think that someone knows I'm out here. That maybe the Peacekeepers will be showing up shortly to arrest me and have me persecuted for trespassing on Capitol land.

I finally sink down to the ground, burying my face in my hands and break down right there.

So stupid. I am so stupid.

I hug my arms around my massive belly as I begin to rock myself where I sit.

How could I have messed my life up so badly? How could I have been so blinded by whatever I was feeling with Gale that day? I had gone from being a self-sufficient and clever provider to a stupid pregnant girl who can't even get herself back home.

Luckily, I suppose, there's not much that can be shed in the form of tears, and instead I end up emitting a low pathetic wale for some time.

The baby inside of me, as if somehow sensing my distress, pushes back at the palms of my hands, which only makes me cry even harder.

"It's going to be okay," I quietly assure him and myself through my sobs. "Your father is going to come and find us, and you won't be born for another month and a half."

But hours pass and he still doesn't come. Neither does Prim, and I begin to contemplate traveling deeper into the woods to find something to eat or perhaps a source of rainwater that might have collected from the downpour we had a few days ago. But I decide to stay put just in case someone does show up looking for me soon, because I don't want to be out of shouting distance if they do.

I begin to occupy my time by walking as briskly as possible down the length of the fence and back, pausing to brace myself whenever a contraction hits. Then I remember my mother having her patients do the same when they wanted to speed up labor, so instead I choose to sit down cross-legged in the grass and wait.

The afternoon passes and I watch as the sun begins to dip down in the west. The contractions stay the same—intense, but generously spaced out.

It's about five in the evening when I hear a hoarse voice frantically calling my name.

I let out a grateful sigh of relief when I realize that it's Gale. He's standing a good distance off and still looking disheveled in his work clothes.

"Gale!" I shout his name, managing to catch his attention right away. His eyes land on me, a distinctive frown clearly etched in his features as he breaks into a run towards me.

"What are you doing out here, Katniss? I thought we'd agreed not to-"

"Stop!" I loudly warn him as he begins to approach the fence. "Stop right there!"

It takes him a second to realize that the power is on, and he quickly takes a step backwards, his eyes widening.

"How long has the power been on?" he asks me cautiously. "How long have you been out here?"

"It came on not too long after I passed through the fence yesterday evening. I waited all night for it to turn back off. Something's going on and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to get out of here."

His mouth goes agape as he studies the electrified fence before him. None of us know much about electricity, it being sort of a foreign thing to us. All we know is that if you touch it, you're fried. There's no way I can squeeze back through the opening without touching the chain link in the process.

"We'll think of something," he says quietly and unsurely. "Are you okay? You're not hurt?"

"No, but I'm hungry and thirsty and-" I begin, the muscles in my abdomen slowly beginning to tighten until I have to close my eyes to focus through the intense cramping in my lower abdomen. I emit a soft whimper and, lacking anything to brace myself against, end up easing myself down to the ground until it ends.

"Katniss?"

"Katniss!"

I can hear Gale repeating my name, but I'm in too much pain to answer. When the contraction finally eases, and I look up to meet his worried gaze.

"What's wrong?"

My bottom lip trembles as I try to calm myself. "I've been having contractions since last night. They're really bad, Gale. I can't...I can't be in labor yet. It's too soon," I cry, frightened.

I look up to see him pulling his hand through his hair as he stumbles back a bit in disbelief. Gale's eyes lock on mine as he contemplates how to get me out of the horrible mess I'd gotten myself into.

"Katniss!" a voice calls out in the distance. I look up to see Prim running at full speed towards us, braids bouncing as she makes her way in our direction. Gale quickly puts his arm out to stop her as she nears the fence. Prim's face is flushed with exertion as she attempts to catch her breath.

"Katniss, we were so scared! Are you okay?"

I open my mouth to answer when Gale turns to her, bracing her small shoulders with his hands. "Listen Prim, she's having contractions. The fence is on and we need to get her out of there right away. I want you to go back to the Seam. Do you know Thom Pilson?" he asks, and she nods. "Go to his house and bring him here. Have him round up a couple of shovels, okay? Hurry!"

Prim disappears back towards the Seam before anyone can speak another word. Gale looks down at me where I still sit frowzled on the ground.

"Are you okay?"

"Besides being in labor a month and a half too early, yes."

He sighs as he kneels down at my level, looking sadly at me through the chain link of the fence.

"I got home from work, and Prim was at my door hysterical because you weren't there after school today. He shakes his head. "I figured out right away where you'd gone off to. You always run away from the things you don't know how to handle, even if it's straight into danger."

I scowl. "You don't have to tell me that what I did was stupid. Obviously, since I might just have to deliver this baby by myself and let you visit through the fence."

"We'll get you out," he replies with a grumble. "If we can't dig you out, I'll bribe Cray to turn the power off."

My brows crease together at his words, because the mere idea of bribing a Peacekeeper is ludicrous.

We're quiet for awhile, Gale checking over his shoulder from time to time to see if Thom has showed up to rescue me yet. When another contraction hits, he looks at me helplessly through the fence as I seethe in pain.

"Breath, Katniss," he tells me softly, and a tear forms in the corner of my eye when I realize that this might be it. That Gale might not get me out of here in time. That I might just have this baby right here outside the district all by myself and it might kill us both. As the contraction passes, I exhale loudly before bursting into sobs.

"Catnip, it's going to be okay," Gale reassures me through the fence. "We'll get you out, and your mother will know what to do. Even if..." He begins, pausing for a second as his expression turns grim. "Even if the baby is coming early, it'll be okay." But Gale's eyes are shiny and I can tell that he's scared too.

And right now I curse that stupid fence that's standing in the way from Gale pulling me into his comforting embrace. Even though he's only standing five feet from where I sit, I feel so utterly alone.

Gale must see how hopeless this situation is, too. His eyes are rimmed with tears as he sinks down to the ground, frowning intensely as he pulls his hand across his face in anguish. "I wish you would've just heard me out last night before taking off like you did."

"So this is all my fault now?" I ask him. "Do you even remember the last time the fence was actually turned on, let alone for this long?"

Gale sighs heavily in reply.

"You always run, Katniss. Whenever something isn't going the way you want it to...off you go. Maybe for once you should learn to deal with your problems rather than running away and leaving them to fester. Did this really help you at all? Coming out here and letting it slowly eat away at you all night?"

"It's better than listening to you try to work out the reasoning behind your proposal. I already knew that you weren't in love with me," I mutter, causing him to stare expressionlessly at me through the fence. It's awkward talking about love with Gale, but it seems pointless to ignore the subject right now. "Just so you know, I don't blame you," I go on. "You can't force yourself to have feelings for someone even if they are carrying your kid. I understand that. But I don't need your charity, Gale. I don't need you to make things right by giving me this...this life of illusion that you've proposed."

"Katniss-"

"No!" I interject. "I don't care about making things easier or pleasing our mothers. All I care about is this baby, and I don't exactly see how forcing yourself to marry me is going to-"

"I wasn't forcing myself!" Gale loudly interrupts. "I didn't just want to marry you because of what my mother said, or the house, or because of the things that people whisper behind our backs whenever we walk through the square. When we slept together, I just assumed it meant that we'd _be _together! But then everything was so awkward afterwards, and you were so cold." He pauses, choking on a breath. "And when we finally got over the awkwardness of what we did, you said you wished it had never happened at all! Don't you get it, Katniss? Do you know what it's like to be in love with your best friend and not even be able to tell her? And then when you finally work up the nerve to say it, she tells you that she feels _nothing _for you?"

My heart pounds in my chest, and Gale's words have rendered me speechless.

"I moved on because you made it so _blatantly_ _obvious_ that you never want to be with me. I didn't want to be with Athena or anyone else, I wanted _you. _But you didn't want me. And when I found out about the baby...I didn't know what to say or do," he goes on. "You obviously didn't want to have this kid with me either. But after you told me, I wanted it, Katniss. Even though I knew that I shouldn't because it was going to make everything harder on everyone, I wanted it _so_ _badly._"

Gale's nearly on the edge of tears when Thom finally shows up with two shovels and Prim tagging closely behind him. His eyes dart awkwardly between us as he hands Gale a shovel.

"She alright?" Thom asks him, motioning towards me.

"She will be if we can get her out of here," Gale answers him, trying to swallow his emotions in an effort avoid looking upset in front of his coworker. "You think it's safe to dig beneath the fence?"

Thom eyes the concrete foundation on which the fence sits for a moment, shrugging. "Don't see why it'd be wired underneath. I guess we'll find out."

Gale ends up sending Prim home to inform my mother what has been going on so that she can be prepared to help me once we get there. It takes an hour and a half for them to dig a big enough hole at the base of the fence for my pregnant form to safely crawl through. Thankfully, by then the sun has set and we've succeeded at not drawing any attention towards ourselves.

As I crawl my way beneath the barrier, I can feel Gale's strong arms reaching down to pull me out. I emerge filthy with a mouthful of dirt as he pulls me into his warm embrace and buries his face into my hair. By now Gale has seen me through five contractions, but he still takes a minute to hold me protectively in his arms as Thom stands back, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Gale, I'm thirsty," I rasp, my mouth dry from not having anything to drink for the past 24 hours. He pauses apprehensively, glancing back to the huge mess of a hole that he and Thom had dug beneath the fence.

"Get her back to her mother," Thom tells him. "I'll finish up here."

Gale nods in thanks before scooping me into his arms and walking quickly back towards the Seam. "Never _ever_ do anything like that again, Catnip," he mutters. "From now on, don't go _anywhere _unless someone knows where you are."

A short while later, Gale throws open the front door of my home where my mother has already started to gather the necessary medical supplies for a premature delivery. He lies me on the hard, linen-covered table in our kitchen, sending a shock wave through my spine, and instantly I feel bad for all of the poor women who've had to give birth there over the years. Prim throws a sheet over my legs and Mother helps me discard of my dirty stockings and underwear.

"I really need a drink," I say weakly, since all I've managed to think about over the past several hours is a cool glass of water. Mother nods and Prim quickly fills a glass for me.

"Did you have anything to drink out there?" my mother asks me, and I shake my head. Brows creased together, Mother pinches the skin on the back of my wrist, studying it carefully. "Has your urine been darker than usual?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I guess."

"What's wrong with her?" Gale asks worriedly, clutching the palm of my hand more tightly.

"She's dehydrated. Lie back, Katniss. I'm going to check your cervix to see if you're dilated."

I do as my mother says. Prim pulls a pillow under my head, smoothing back my hair as Gale grips my hand reassuringly. I flush a bit as my mother reaches between my legs, and grimace at the uncomfortable pressure there. There's a look of intense concentration in her features before she shakes her head and pulls the sheet back down.

"Finish your water and then lie on your left side. You aren't dilated, and I don't that that you've gone into labor. The contractions were probably brought on by dehydration," my mother assures me. "We'll keep a close eye on you and they should stop within the hour. But I don't think we have anything to worry about."

Gale exhales a breath of relief before leaning down to kiss my dirt-smeared forehead. That's when I realize just how grotty I feel having been stuck outside for the past 24 hours and then dragged through a hole under the fence.

"I'll get you something to wash up with," Prim offers when I voice my frustration out loud.

"Baby's going to be fine, Catnip. She's going to be okay," Gale repeats himself, and I can only imagine the anxiety I've put him through over the past several hours. It's something that I don't often think about—how much all of this is effecting him. It's then that I realize how much he's had to put up with me. Worrying about me whenever I feel sad or ill or hungry. The extra hours he's put in at a job that he loathes just to keep enough food on both of our families' tables over the past few months. I'm not the only one suffering anxiety from this pregnancy; Gale's shouldered just as much of the responsibility as I have.

"I'm sorry," I finally whisper to him. "I knew better than to go out there, but I did anyways. I just didn't think the fence would turn on."

Gale shakes his head at me, his dirty hand caressing my cheek. "I don't care anymore. Just don't do anything stupid ever again," he tells me, causing us both to chuckle softly.

After Gale carries me to the comfort of my bed, I wash the dirt from my skin and change into a clean nightgown. Mother brings me a hot bowl of thin soup, which I devour. Gale sits at the end of my bed, squeezing my leg reassuringly as I slurp hungrily from the bowl.

"No more contractions?" Mother asks me.

"No, not since I've been home."

She nods, leaning down to kiss me on the top of my head. Then she grasps my shoulders, her expression serious. "I know that you've been taking care of yourself for...for awhile now," she tells me softly, dancing around the subject of her withdrawal after Father's death. "But I do worry about you and need you to act responsibly now. You were lucky this time. Next time you feel inclined to take off alone outside the district, maybe at least tell someone where you're going? Today could have ended up much worse had you really been in labor."

I nod my head in agreement. After finishing my small meal, my eyes begin to droop with fatigue. It's not quite bedtime yet, but my previous sleepless night spent outdoors has left me beat. My mother suggests I go to bed early, and I don't object.

Although Mother assures Gale that I'm going to be just fine, he still refuses to leave me. So instead, he wraps me in his arms as I slowly begin to drift off, placing a delicate kiss behind my ear as his large palm travels over the expanses of my ever-growing belly.

"I love you, Catnip," I hear him whisper as sleep finally takes me.


	20. Chapter 20

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 20_

The weather has now grown cold, and our humbly-built home a bit drafty. Mother and Prim have taken to piling quilts onto the bed that they share, but somehow I still awaken every night sweaty and screaming. As my due date approaches, my nightmares have increased in intensity and frequency, and they are always about losing the ones that I love. The only thing that ever helps is waking up in Gale's comforting arms, which I haven't had the privilege of doing as of late. He's been much too busy in the mines working extra hours trying to fill the Capitol's quota. Judging by the hours he's put in, it's doubtful that any of the families there are suffering from a cold and drafty home this season.

I sleep lying on my side in bed with a pillow between my knees as my mother has instructed me to do—something about it increasing blood flow to the fetus—when my sister wakes me.

"Mother said you've had enough time off of school. She says you need to go back today."

I reply in a groan.

"You had four days off, Katniss. You're rehydrated, well-rested, and your contractions stopped days ago."

"Just a few more weeks..." I mumble into the quilt which I have pulled over my head.

"You'll have had the baby by then. There'll be no reason to go back."

"I know."

I eat the meager breakfast my mother has prepared for us—cereal made from grain rations with a splash of goat's milk—before dressing myself and pulling my now thinning hair into a braid. I read that pregnancy hormones usually cause women to grow thicker hair, but the opposite has happened for me. Not only that, but I've noticed Prim's cheeks are beginning to appear more hollow than they have in years.

"Did you finish your school work?" Mother asks me, spooning the greyish mash into a bowl.

"No."

She frowns. "Prim brought you home an entire folder full to keep you caught up."

"Didn't seem like it'd do me much good," I argue, forcing down the tasteless, ugly-colored grain cereal while wrinkling my nose in distaste. "I don't think algebraic equations will help me in changing diapers. Just more worthless information that will soon be forgotten." Maybe I'm a bit bitter for having had my entire future planned out for me at 16, not that I had a lot of options to begin with.

Mother scowls but says nothing. She knows that I have a point.

I am out of breath and my cheeks are flush by the time we reach the school.

"Do you want me to see you to your first class?" Prim asks with a bit of a humorous grin, since that's the very thing I did for her when she was a small child.

I shake my head, huffing to catch my breath. "I have to stop off into the girl's room first anyhow."

I end up being late for my first class, and the curious eyes that stare me down as I walk into the beginning of a lecture make me duck my head as I slip in my usual place at the small table in the back of the room. I open my book, act like I'm taking notes, and spend the rest of the class period thinking about anything but the lesson being given.

* * *

My back is sore by the time gym class roles around. If there's anything that's completely absurd about going to school at almost eight months pregnant, it's the fact that I'm still required to attend gym class even though I'm not capable of actually participating in any of the physical activities. I used to walk the track when the weather was nicer, but now I sit in the bleacher seating "observing." There's not much to observe, considering that they're playing Bombardment—a game that I've been familiar with since the first grade. Today they've brought in the boy's gym team to challenge the girl's. It's not exactly an even match, but we're used to being at a disadvantage here in 12.

I think of Katrina Evanson, the 15-year-old girl from our district with a degenerative disease who was taken down by a 200 pound career 15 minutes into the last Game.

The whole thing depresses me, and instead of watching, I sit slouched forward over the Algebra homework my instructor insisted I complete while massaging my temples and wishing away my lower back pain. What I really need is to lie down for awhile, but I'll have to wait until study hall to rest my head on my desk, and even then my protruding stomach usually gets in the way.

It's not long after the first balls begin to fly at the opposing teams that a male voice directed towards me snaps me back at attention.

"You mean to tell me you're using this pregnancy thing as an excuse to get out of _Bombardment _now?" a voice asks with fake mockery. Peeta is staring down at me with rumpled hair and a playful smile as he sits down next to me. "Don't you know that Bombardment is a excellent morale booster?"

Peeta Mellark has rarely spoken to me over the past several months, let alone tried to make a joke. They're the only kind words that any of my classmates have had for me in the longest time, and I smile despite myself.

"If throwing balls at your classmates is such a wonderful morale booster, then why aren't you out there playing with them?"

"I was. I was the first one tagged out."

I raise my eyebrows. The last I'd heard, Peeta was not only on the wrestling team, but had placed second in the last match. The idea of him being bad at any sport was preposterous.

"I always try to get tagged out right off to get it over with," he then goes on to explain. "I don't wanna be the last guy left standing out there, waiting to have the rest of his classmates do him in."

I shake my head. "That's a...terrible game plan, Peeta."

His expression softens a bit at my words.

"Well," he says, "there's little pride in throwing balls at girls half your weight."

I nod in agreement, wincing down at the blurry numbers and letters on my homework page. Oh yeah, my eyesight is bad now, too.

"Algebra?" he asks me, peering over my shoulder. "Isn't this from last week?"

"I, uh, I was out last week..." I explain. "Just...a pregnancy thing." The usual getting-stuck-outside-the-district-and-then-going-into-fake-labor thing.

"Oh."

There's an uncomfortable silence that follows, because this isn't a topic any normal teenager discusses. It's certainly not anything I want to discuss with a boy I hardly even know. A boy who's mother thinks I'm Seam trash and a whore. I wonder how he can even talk to me, let alone sit next to me.

"I can help you, if you want."

I look up at him.

"I'm good at this subject. I mean, I helped Delly when she was having trouble. I don't mind," he adds with a shrug. When I don't reply right away, his words begin to rush out nervously. "I mean, once you start struggling in math, it's hard to get back on track."

"There's only 15 minutes of the period left and I have four assignments to catch up on," I point out.

"Well, it wouldn't have to be here. In the school library during lunch, or after class..."

I'm almost astonished at the fact that he seems so willing to help me again when I have nothing to offer him in return. I almost begin to think that this is some sort of setup for an elaborate practical joke, but no, I know that Peeta isn't cruel. And as I sit there watching him anxiously wipe the palms of his hands on the fabric of his gym shorts, I am at a complete loss of why he would even want to help someone like me.

The fact that he is willing to take his time to help some knocked-up girl from the Seam bothers me so much that I can't even consider taking him up on his offer.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask before I can even consider the harshness of the question, and regret it instantly as Peeta's face flushes as he looks away from me uncomfortably.

Peeta is one of the very few people who's actually gone out of their way to be kind to me, not only since this whole debacle started, but _ever. _

The whistle blows, signaling the start of another game, and Peeta slides from his seat.

"I should go," he tells me quietly before walking back across the floor of the gymnasium.

* * *

I'm sitting alone at the lunch table thinking about the mystery that is Peeta Mellark when Madge approaches, doing a double take when she sees me sitting in our usual spot. With a shake of her head, she sits down in the seat opposite to mine and begins halving everything in her lunch box.

"I thought maybe you'd had your baby when you weren't at school last week."

"Oh, no. I'm not due until next month."

I smile in thanks as I look down at the meager meal before me. Madge really doesn't eat much considering she isn't required to exert a lot of energy during the day, and I'm at the stage in my pregnancy where I could probably eat an entire deer by myself. But the food that she offers me daily at school still makes all of the difference. I've learned to get over my shame and accept her act of kindness when I need it most.

Besides, the delicacies she brings from home are like nothing I've ever tasted—white bread, sliced meat, and fruits that I've never even seen before. I slowly pick my share, eating it slowly with the hope of making it seem like a grand meal.

"I know you can't possibly go out in your condition and that Gale is probably busy in the mines, but Cray mentioned his longing for some wild turkey last week," Madge tells me. "He's even willing to pay more than the going rate."

Savoring a bite of sandwich, I look up.

"Oh," I softly reply.

"Father said he'd buy some of your rabbit, too, if you have extra to sell," Madge goes on, pausing to bite down on her lower lip. I know what she's trying to do: Everyone in town knows that Mayor Undersee only eats the finest cuts of butcher meat. "He gets tired of beef and horse sometimes. I told him I'd ask you."

I glance back at her curiously. So the mayor really has no idea what's going on outside the district? It's both a bit concerning and somewhat of a relief. Maybe her father is in a position to help, but then again, maybe it's something so devious that it's beyond his control. Mayor of 12 isn't exactly the highest-ranking position in the government.

But he is the highest ranking official _here, _and a decent human at that. And if he wants to help us by buying game that he would never actually eat, maybe he'd be able to put a stop to whatever is going on outside the district.

"I mean, when you or Gale get the chance to go out again-" she begins.

"I think the Capitol is poisoning us," I find myself suddenly interrupting.

Madge blinks, her face paling as her hand comes across the table to clutch mine. I close my eyes, grimacing as I chastise myself for blurting it out in such a public place. Glancing at the kids that sit around us and who are too occupied with each other to pay any attention to a couple of outcasts like us, Madge finally decides that it's safe to speak again.

"What do you mean?" she whispers.

"Several months ago, Gale and I started finding dead animals," I begin. "It was...strange to say the least. Deer, panthers, squirrel, rabbits—they all started dwindling in numbers. Then Gale, he...he got sick from drinking from the creek. Poisoned, my mother had said. Almost killed him. Then they poisoned a little lake far away from the district where we'd been fishing. Burned down the little building next to it. Now the power to the fence is on full-time."

"They're poisoning the water then?" she asks.

"Yeah, basically. Everything is dying and there's nothing left to be hunted even if we could get past the fence. It's like they're trying to scare us out."

Madge pokes thoughtfully at her purple melon chunks with a fork, frowning.

"Do you know something?" I ask her. When she doesn't reply, my mouth gapes. "You _do_ know something, don't you?"

"No, not really," she begins, looking a bit unsure. "My father spoke out against an idea the Capitol had introduced to control the animal population surrounding 12 last year. It seemed like a strange idea and a bit of pointless one, considering there's a fence that keeps out most of the wild animals anyways. They're no real threat to anyone who doesn't leave the perimeter of the fence, and he was worried about the toxins seeping into the well water."

"Why would they care about our safety?" I ask her, a bit confused. "They've only just begun turning on the fence."

"No, you're right. They wouldn't," Madge agrees. "There's a lot more to it than that." She pauses momentarily, as if contemplating whether or not to go on. "There have been people running away from some of the districts, Katniss."

"_What_?" I gasp. "You mean...into the woods?" I ask her, thinking of Gale's insistence to run.

She nods.

"Too many have done it successfully. Some from Six and Eight just last month. They took supplies with them and no one's seen them since. The Capitol doesn't have the resources to explore the open space between districts for runaways, and it's not really known where they took off to. Father said that the wildlife population control was just a way for them to instill fear in the district citizens, because where there's hope, there's a chance of an uprising," Madge tells me in a whisper.

My heart is thumping wildly in my chest at the idea. People successfully fleeing the districts? The all-powerful Capitol scared of an _uprising_?

My mind is spinning. It's too big of an idea for me to even process. I always thought that the Capitol had a stranglehold on it district's citizens, but it seems that perhaps I was wrong

I stare down at the table before me in shock.

"Katniss," Madge begins, and I know what she's about to ask before she even says it.

"I know. This stays between us," I assure her.

* * *

When I return home that evening without Prim, who said she had to run a few errands in town, Gale's mother and two youngest siblings are there. Hazelle and my mother are picking through a couple of old boxes of things that sit on the kitchen table while chatting and drinking mint tea.

"What's this?" I ask them after setting my backpack down and peering into one of the boxes.

"Hazelle's washed some baby things for you," my mother says. "We thought it'd be a good idea for you to be ready when the time comes."

"All pink things at Gale's request," Hazelle adds, and I roll my eyes. "I'll bring the other things over once I get through washing them. You'll get use out of all of them anyway. Babies don't care what color they wear."

"He's still dead set on a little girl then?" I ask Hazelle as I pull out a tiny pink sleeper.

"Afraid so."

I offer them a weak smile before deciding to lie down for a bit. Gale awakens me two hours later when dinner is ready and the sun has begun to set.

"Sorry," I tell him groggily as I rub my eyes. "I only meant to lie down, not take a two hour nap."

He smiles down at me as he pushes a loose strand of hair from my eyes.

"You're growing a human, Catnip. I think it's to be expected."

"Where are Prim and Rory?" I ask when we all take our places around the table. "We shouldn't start without them."

Mother frowns as she begins to serve food onto plates, passing them around the table. "Shouldn't have taken them this long at the store. Probably off playing around somewhere. We'll keep them a couple of plates warm in the stove for when they return."

We end up eating butcher's beef with a onions, squash, and radishes, since it's the only vegetables available this time of year. Gale talks about work in the mines with Thom and how they've been trying to meet the Capitol quota. I try hard to pay attention, but all I can think about is my conversation with Madge at lunch and how badly I want to tell him about it.

But I hold my tongue because I know telling him will only succeed in Gale wanting to run away again, and right now neither of us are in a position to leave our families.

Gale must be able to tell that I've been thinking hard about something when he pulls me into his arms on the front step of the porch and begins kissing me softly. His forehead resting on mine and his hands on my hips, he finally asks me what's wrong.

"Nothing," I assure him. "Just a little sick of being pregnant, I guess."

There may come a time when I finally have to tell him the truth about everything, but it seems pointless to get him riled up about it right now when there's not anything that we can do about it.

"It won't be much longer," he promises. "The way are mothers are talking, you'll be having this kid any day now."

"My mother thinks I'll go early."

"Could be," he agrees, rubbing my belly. "It looks like she's running out of room in there. Did my mom ever mention I weighed eight and a half pounds when I was born?"

I groan. "That's about the last thing I wanted to hear right now, Gale."

He smiles. "You'll be fine. You'll do great, I promise."

We take advantage of the dark, starry night that surrounds us by kissing for a good while on the porch. His lips find neck, my jaw, my eyes, before connecting with my own again. This is the most intimate we've been lately, now that doing anything more is too physically uncomfortable for me.

And then there's the awkwardness of the marriage proposal that still looms over us.

"I love you," Gale whispers into my ear, and I press a feverish kiss onto his lips in reply.

Gale says this regularly now. He doesn't look for me to return the sentiment, but his expression always tells me that he wishes for it.

I can't say the words back. I've tried saying them when I'm alone to get a feel for how they sound. It's too awkward. I don't know exactly if I feel the same way, and I assume it's best not to say anything at all. I pretend not to notice the hurt in his eyes when I continuously change the subject every time he declares his feelings for me out loud. I don't want to hurt him, but I also don't know how to interpret whatever this is that I feel for him.

I used to think that love was simple. It wasn't hard for me to love when I was a child—my mother, Prim, my father...

But that was long before _everything _happened. Because now I know that even when you love someone, there's still the possibility that they can be taken away from you in a moment.

It isn't long before Gale and my tender make-out session is interrupted by the sound of his younger sibling clearing his throat. Gale groans a bit, pulling away from me and instead wrapping his arm over my shoulders while Rory smirks a bit at the state he's just caught us in.

"Where were you two?" Gale asks Rory and Prim as they make their way up the steps of our porch. They exchange a mischievous glance towards one another before shrugging.

"I'm not even sure that I wanna know, but what could you two have possibly been up to for the past three hours?" Gale wonders out loud, and I don't miss the implication in his voice. I narrow my eyes at my sister, who's face flushes under my discerning stare. I don't even want to contemplate that maybe our siblings had been up to the same thing we've been. They're just barely teenagers_. _Besides, making out with a Hawthorne was the last thing on my mind at 13. Not that they haven't been spending a lot of time together lately, because they have. But there didn't seem to be anything going on between the pair other than a strong friendship.

Then again, Rory _is _Gale's brother. Luckily, before I even begin to think about castrating him, Rory breaks the long silence between us.

"We were at the Justice Building," he explains.

"Rory!" Prim exclaims, reaching out to firmly grasp the boy's upper arm in warning.

Rory easily shrugs my sister off, looking towards her with annoyance. "They're gong to find out anyways, Prim."

Gale and I exchange a confused glance.

"What business would you two have at the Justice Building?" I ask warily.

Prim bites her lower lip apprehensively before saying, "We've signed up for tesserae."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: ** Just a few quick notes:

**1) **Yes, I know that I suck for not having updated in forever. The past month has been very busy and very stressful for me. I really hope that I can get the next chapter out a lot sooner.

**2) **Um, I feel bad for making some of you think that this might turn into an Everlark fic. I assure you that it won't. I did mention that there would be some one-sided Peeta/Katniss, but that's it. I added him into the story for friendly, platonic support only, because I could see him trying to help her even if he knew he had no chance with her (Which he doesn't. Sorry, Peeta).

**3) **I have about 4 or 5 chapters of this left to write. The following chapters will be much more eventful. I think I have the gender and name picked out for our Baby Everdeen-Hawthorne, but if anyone has suggestions, I will gladly consider them.

* * *

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 21_

I've seen Gale riled up before—well several times really—but never, ever like this. While he had taken on the role as father-figure to his younger siblings at a very young age, I've never actually witnessed him snap on one of them. But I guess there's a first time for everything.

"You...signed up...for tesserae," Gale says slowly, allowing this shocking bit of information to sink in. "You...and Prim. You two signed up for tesserae?"

Rory rolls his eyes at his brother. "Yes, tesserae. You know, that grain that the Capitol sends to keep people like us from starving to death? You have a crap job working in the mines to support ten people, and it's not like your hunting skills are exactly impressive these days-"

In a matter of seconds Gale's hand is twisted into the collar of Rory's shirt. While Rory is a pretty skinny kid at age 12, he's only a few inches shorter than his brother and doesn't duck away at the intimidating gesture. He must have a lot of faith that his older brother won't hit him, but right now I'm not so sure.

But it's not Gale's stance that worries me most, it's the way that his voice booms, undoubtedly audible to everyone within the half-mile radius of our house.

"What the hell have you done, Rory!" he yells, and I flinch at his tone. "Do you _know _why I spent every spare hour of every day over the past five years out in those woods hunting? Why I work 18 hours a day down in the mines? So _you _would have a chance! And then, not only do you sign up for tesserae, but you drag Prim along with you. Were you out of your mind!" he demands, giving Rory a slight shove while tightening his grip on the the fabric of the boy's shirt.

The younger Hawthorne smacks Gale's hand away dismissively. Rory has always been a kid with nerve, probably got it from his older brother.

"Things weren't getting any better around here," he says. "I mean, look at your girlfriend. She looks like a pregnant twig! You want your kid to starve to death before it's even born? And Prim isn't much better; she's looked sick for weeks now. You could work 24 hours a day and still not afford to keep us all afloat. Besides, it was our decision to do it. Now can you just swallow your damn pride for once so we don't all have to die-"

I gasp as I witness Gale shove his brother with enough force to send him flying back into the porch railing. Rory emits a grunt before quickly righting himself.

"You have no _idea _what you've done, Rory! You haven't done anyone any favors! I signed up for tesserae because dad was _dead_ and there was no one else. We had _no one, _and you do. This was never supposed to be an option for you!"

Rory just glares back at his older brother as he adjusts his shirt. "I'm not some dumb little kid. I can make my own decisions."

"You're a stupid 12-year-old!"

My eyes fall on Prim, who stands twisting the skirt of her dress in her hands nervously. When her eyes look up to meet mine, I realize that my heart is rapidly beating within my chest.

I shake my head at her, feeling as if I'm on the verge of an emotional breakdown. Everything I've always wanted to protect her from feels so imminent now. It was stupid to think I could keep her safe in a place like this—a place where people die meaninglessly every day.

"Why?" I croak out, but I can't even hear my own voice over the heated exchange taking place between Gale and his brother.

She looks down at her shoes.

"How many times?" I ask her when she doesn't answer right away, literally shaking at the thought of even one extra slip of paper in the bowl with my sister's name on it.

"Four," she answers quietly. "One you, Mother, myself, and the baby."

My fingers grow numb and my palms sweaty as I do the math to figure out how many times she'll be in when she's 18, if she even makes it that far.

"Katniss, it'll be okay. I wanted to do this for you. I wanted to contribute," she assures me, but her words only succeed at making me feel so much worse.

If I hadn't had gotten pregnant.

If I would have just denied myself that one selfish thing I'd done with Gale.

My own stupid actions are what caused this. I am completely to blame. Now my little sister—the person who means more to me than my own life—is basically risking her life to fix the terrible mess I've put us in. Now I understand where Gale's anger comes from, though the unbearable guilt that I feel affects me in a much different way.

It feels like my throat is closing up, and I begin to have trouble breathing as my legs go weak, giving out from beneath me before I fall roughly to my hands and knees. I keel over, holding my stomach as I brace myself on the old, splintered boards of our porch.

"Katniss!" Prim screams out, dropping down beside me, and suddenly all of the arguing stops at once.

"What's wrong?" Gale's voice rasps from across the porch.

He is there in a second, scooping me up off the floor and into his arms. Rory throws the front door of our home open, standing back to let us through. Hazelle and my mother are already making their way towards us, having heard the heated exchange outside, no doubt. As Gale takes me into the kitchen, Rory and Prim follow closely behind.

"What's wrong?" My mother asks him as he lies me down on the table.

"I don't know, she just collapsed."

I'm still struggling to catch my breath when my mother takes my wrist into her hand.

"Katniss. Katniss, you need to calm yourself down," she tells me as I begin to wheeze. "Are you having contractions?"

I shake my head.

"What was going on out there before she fell?" My mother asks us, but no one can seem to find the courage to speak up, and I'm still in no shape for talking. "Someone needs to tell me what's going on!" my mother demands again as she lies me back and fetches her old stethoscope from her bag and places it to my chest.

Rory scoots the tip of his boot across the floor before finally explaining.

"We, uh... Prim and I signed up for tesserae."

The stethoscope falls from my mother's fingers at the boy's confession, clanking loudly against the floorboards.

"You did _what?_" Hazelle demands, her voice cracking.

"We did what we had to do, okay?" Rory says defensively. "Everyone's going hungry, and we did the only thing there was left to do. It's not like we had a choice."

"That's stupid," replies Gale. "Everyone's got a choice," he spits.

Posy watches the whole exchange from the side of the room, fingers in her mouth and holding the old ratty teddy bear she always carries around.

"Vick, take her back to the bedroom," Gale tells the 11-year-old. He quickly nods, taking his little sister's hand and leading her to the back of the house.

By now my mother has calmed herself down enough to listen to my breathing as my pulse begins to slow.

"I think it's stress," she says, frowning as she folds her stethoscope in half before tucking it away. "Not that I can blame her. You told me you were going to the store for bandages and fever reducers, Prim. Signing up for tesserae isn't an errand you just run by yourself. What makes you think you can go and do this behind my back?"

I don't point out that I'd done the same at age 12, not that she's likely to remember that day.

Prim glances at Rory, biting her lip unsurely before looking back towards our mother. "I knew that we needed it, but I also knew that you and Katniss would never let me. So today after school, Rory and I agreed to go to the Justice Building on our own and sign up. I didn't mean to upset you so badly, Katniss!" she says as she emits a soft sob. "We didn't want to disappoint you guys, we only wanted to help!"

"So this was all Rory's idea?" Gale asks, shooting another glare towards his brother. "I asked you months ago to keep an eye on Prim, and this is how you do it, huh? Getting the dumb idea to-"

"It wasn't his idea," Prim admits weakly, tears rolling down her cheeks. "It was mine."

"And it was a good idea! Better than watching everyone slowly starve to death," Rory argues. "You might be okay with standing by while your girlfriend turn into skin and bones," he tells Gale, "But I, for one, am not."

"I am _not_ your girlfriend!" Prim informs him, finally breaking down into full sobs.

"You two," Gale mumbles into the palms of his hands where he's now buried his face. Shaking his head, his arms drop back down to his sides. "We _don't _need the extra food, and you can't _un-sign _up for tesserae once you've taken it. Do you know how much anxiety I have the way it is? Katniss is still of reaping age for the next two years, and now you and Prim both have your names in the bowl _multiple _times! Do you realize how much more it's going to hurt this family if one of you gets sent off and never comes back!" he groans.

The idea of Prim being called up on that stage and shipped away to the Capitol to prepare for slaughter causes my throat to all but tighten up completely. My entire body shakes at the thought of my sweet, innocent little sister in the Hunger Games with 18-year-old male tributes he could snap her neck in one-

My arms are now masking my face as I try to ward off unwanted thoughts of my little sister being killed in the arena. It's like I'm living one of my nightmares, and in the midst of all the arguing taking place around me, I now realize that all of those terrible dreams I have been enduring for months are finally coming true.

Between Gale and his brother bickering, Prim offering and endless string of tearful apologies, and Hazelle just trying to make sense of it all, I feel like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.

It's my mother who finally has the good sense to yell at everyone to shut up.

The room goes silent in an instant.

"Katniss," she says my name gently as she pulls my arms away from my face. "I need you to breathe for me, sweetheart. Slow, deep breaths okay? You're panicking again, and the baby needs oxygen. Prim is here; she's safe."

Well, for _now_ at least.

I feel a small hand begin to rub comforting circles on my shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," Prim whispers. "I thought I was helping; I didn't mean to cause all of this trouble. I just didn't want to see you sick anymore. You never tell us when you're not feeling well, and well, when you were washing up the other day, I realized how frail you've gotten. I can see the bones in your chest and your hair is falling out. I thought it was worth the risk."

"It's not worth the risk, Prim," I whisper. "It's never worth the risk."

I'm still crying when she cradles my head in her arms, my own fat tears soaking through the rough wool of her cardigan.

"You should get some rest, Catnip," Gale tells me in a much calmer tone. "Your mother says the stress isn't good for the baby."

I go to stand, but Gale is afraid that I'll fall again and will have none of it. Instead, he scoops me up again into his arms and deposits me into my bed before kneeling at my side. The others busy themselves with cleaning up the mess in the kitchen that is still left over from dinner as Gale attempts to help calm me, his hands smoothing through my hair.

"This was never supposed to happen," I whisper as Gale's palm travels down my back is a soothing manner.

"I know," he agrees. "But _none _of this was ever supposed to happen. We're both making this a lot worse than it has to be," he says, taking a deep breath. "I know that you're scared for Prim. I'm just as scared for Rory. But I made it through with 42 slips, so maybe they'll be okay."

After the Hawthornes leave, I fall into a fitful slumber plagued by nightmares.

* * *

"You don't look so good," Madge tells me the next day at school as I stare across the cafeteria at the merchant kids' table, wondering what it would be like if the worse famine you've ever had to endure was the absence of preserves on your baked goods.

Delly Cartwright always has raspberry jam on her muffin.

"Bread?" Madge asks me, grabbing my attention while offering me a fresh slice, which I graciously accept. "Did something happen?"

My eyes find her blue ones across the table as I devour the soft, white baker's bread with a shrug.

"My sister signed up for tesserae yesterday. So did Gale's younger brother. We were really trying hard for it not to happen. They did it behind our backs."

Madge doesn't reply right away, maybe because she has no idea what it feels like to have someone you love sign up for tesserae.

"I'm sorry."

I shrug, because there's not much I can do about it now.

"I guess it was wishful thinking—assuming we could get by without it," I tell her with a sigh. "I guess it was my own fault," I admit, passing the palm of my hand over my abdomen. I'm usually not so self-pitying. I'd like to blame that on the hormones, but I know it isn't the case.

Madge bites her lip uncertainly for a moment before digging down into the backpack at her side, withdrawing six coins, and placing them into the palm of my hand. My eyes widen at the gesture.

"Madge-"

"You need it," she whispers adamantly.

"I can't-"

"Please, Katniss," she begs. "I don't think I could ever forgive myself if anything happened to you or your family when I had the means to help you all along."

"But I can't pay you back," I tell her, confused. "I have no way to repay you."

"You don't have to," she assures me. "I don't want anything in return—you're not in _debt _to me. I'm doing it because I want to and because I can...and because it's the _right_ thing to do. Don't you know how friendship works, Katniss?"

I still feel awkward and confused as I pocket the coins.

"There's no shame in accepting help when you need it the most," she insists, but it's still too hard for me to grasp the concept of someone going out of their way to help me just out of the goodness of their heart.

I look up when I feel someone looking at me, and meet another pair of blue eyes staring at me from across the room before Peeta Mellark suddenly looks away.

* * *

Right after school I go to Gale's knowing that he'd met quota yesterday and will most likely already be home from the mines. As I stand on the Hawthorne's front porch, awaiting an answer, I can hear the sound of a shovel cutting through sod coming from the back of their home.

I leave my overloaded backpack on the porch, following the noise curiously. I find Gale piling a large mound of dirt over where he must have dug a hole in the ground earlier. I watch as he finishes up by packing down the dirt with the back of his shovel. He then straightens himself, stretching the soreness out of his muscles before looking up at me.

"What's going on?" I ask, nodding towards the loose pile of dirt at his feet.

With a sigh, he drops his shovel to the ground and walks towards me, wiping the sweat from his brow the the sleeve of his filthy miner's shirt.

"The dog, _er..._Rocky, died."

"What happened to him?" I ask, thinking of how upset the children are going to be when they return home.

He doesn't answer me right away, instead taking me by the arm and leading me up towards the house.

"Gale?"

He shakes his head. "Couldn't afford to feed him, Catnip," he voice struggles.

My mouth drops open as I shrug free of his grasp and stand back to stare at him, exasperated.

"Gale, please don't tell me you killed the kids' dog."

He blinks.

"You-you did, didn't you?" I'm completely shocked by his act of cruelty towards his siblings' beloved pet. Okay, sure, I did try to kill Buttercup a few years ago right after Prim had found him, but I was a scared little kid with a huge burden on my shoulders at the time. And it's not like Buttercup is a prized companion anyway.

"Don't say it like that," Gale grumbles. "The thing was skin and bones. No one else would take him. It was either let him slowly starve to death or put him out of his misery. I think the latter was much less cruel."

There's so much irony in that statement that I can hardly bare it.

"They cut back hours at the mines this week," he mutters. "All of this worrying about trying to meet quota, and once we do, we end up screwing ourselves over."

I sit down next to him on the porch as he finally relaxes for what is probably the first time today.

I hate the hopelessness of everything. Trying to figure out what else we can do to make things easier, and coming up with nothing.

"Have you checked the fence lately?"

Gale looks up in an instant. "You stay away from the fence, okay? I mean it, Katniss. Someone knows we've been out there, and it's not worth it. They'll execute you whether you're pregnant or not."

Staring down at my lap, I nod.

"I picked up some things after school," I suddenly remember, fetching my backpack from Gale's front step. With a frown, he accepts it from me and opens it up to peak inside. It's filled with the least expensive foods I could find this time of year—canned vegetables and fatty cuts of meat. It's nothing fancy, but I was able to spread the six coins pretty far with my frugality.

"How'd you get this?" he asks.

"Madge. She wanted to help, so she-"

Gale shoves the bag roughly back towards me.

"Take it back," he snaps.

"Take it back? Are you _insane?_"

"We don't accept charity," he reminds me.

"I know that, Gale, but that's before we started struggling to feed our own siblings. Before Prim and Rory signed up for tesserae. Before you had to _kill_ your starving dog and bury it in the backyard. The mayor has more than enough food to eat, and Madge just wants to help-"

Gale stands quickly. "We don't need anything from _them_, okay? People like the Undersees are the reason half of 12 are starving to death! We're better than that, Katniss. Now take it all back to them or I'm going to dump it all over by the slag heap!"

And then he escapes back into his house, slamming the door behind him.

I know better than to try and follow him.

* * *

I lie in bed that night, exhausted, but my mind is racing so quickly that I can't seem to fall asleep. I think about Gale and his pride and how important it is to him to be able to provide for his family on his own. It's the sort of determination I've always found so admirable about him, but right now it's only holding us back.

I didn't take the food back to Madge's. Unlike Gale, I can easily swallow my pride if it means keeping my sister full. I wanted to leave some with the Hawthorne children, but of course Gale would have none of it. But maybe I could unload some on Rory Monday at school; get him to sneak it into the house. Even if Gale refuses to eat it, I'd like to at least keep his younger brothers and sister fed.

Mother and Prim are sleeping in their bed across the room when I hear a faint tap on the windowsill. For a minute, I assume it's just the sound of the wind which often shakes the tin roof of our home on breezy autumn nights. But when I hear the sound again, I finally manage to roll myself out of bed before pulling back the curtain to see what it is.

Gale is standing on our porch in the moonlight, his arms curled around himself and holding the large sack I recognize as his game bag limply at his side. With a sigh I walk to the front door to allow him in.

"Gale, do you know how late it is?" I begin, but I barely finish my question before he pulls me against his chilled body and wearily wraps me into his arms.

"I love you so much," he breaths into my ear. "Do you know how much I love you?"

I have to wonder where this sudden reminder of his undying love for me comes from. Hadn't we just been in an argument six hours prior?

Scrunching up my nose and acknowledging how un-Gale like this is, I push him at arms length as I stare into his bloodshot eyes. He's unsteady on his feet and slurring his speech and it only takes me a moment to realize what, exactly, it is that's wrong with him.

"You're drunk!"

He offers me an impish smile, not acknowledging my appalling accusation.

"You're so beautiful, Catnip," he goes on, cupping my chin into his hands. "We're going to have a beautiful daughter."

I push his hands away from myself, disgusted.

"Gale, you need to go home. Sleep this off, " I tell him, still in shock. Gale has always held a a strong disgust for drunks—never understood the point of it when so many people can't even afford to put food on their tables. And hardly anyone in 12 can afford the bootleg liquor with the exception of Cray and Haymitch Abernathy or other Capitol officials. How he had even managed to get his hands on enough alcohol to actually become _intoxicated _was beyond me.

Instead he pushes past me and into the sitting room before plopping himself on the couch. Sighing and wiping the weariness from my eyes, I follow him.

Gale is drunk. How on earth am I going to explain this to my mother? She's already angry enough at him the way it is, and her finding out the father of her grandchild is intoxicated certainly won't put him in her good graces.

"Why don't you love me, Katniss?" Gale asks me before I can even suggest that he take off his especially muddy boots. He's been to more than the Hob tonight.

"Wh-what?" I stutter, a little peeved at him for ignoring the situation at hand.

"You wanted me to love you, but you don't love me back," he slurs.

My mouth gapes slightly, and I stare at him speechlessly.

"Do you know how long I've loved you?" he asks me. "I couldn't even tell you because I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same," he admits, letting out a sarcastic chuckle. "That day out in the woods, when you first kissed me? I thought that it was real. I thought it was because you," he tells me, poking me lightly in the chest, "wanted to kiss me."

"I did-"

"You did it because you felt too innocent. You felt _weak_. You had something to prove."

I sit up, alarmed and insulted. "You have no right to tell me how I feel, Gale."

"You certainly don't know yourself."

I frown, shaking my head at him.

"I never said that I didn't love you."

"And you never said that you _did._"

I find myself unable to meet his heavy gaze and quickly look away.

"It's not that easy, Gale," I mumble, playing with the thin fabric of my sleeping gown as my face heats at our awkward conversation.

"Why not?" he asks me. "Why can't it be that easy? It's not hard to love someone, if you let yourself..." he goes on, looking at me with the saddest expression I've ever seen.

"I..._care_...about you," I finally admit, choosing my words carefully. I can't tell him what he wants to hear. I can't say those words unless I'm certain, because once you do, there's no taking them back.

Gale's mouth forms a tight, thin line. "Of course you do," he says spitefully, suddenly pushing away from me.

My heart sinks when I realize that I've still hurt him.

"You don't know!" I exclaim as I reach out to grasp his shoulders. "Okay? You don't know what it's like to love someone and have them disappoint you. To put all of your trust into a person when you need them the most, and have them leave you behind."

"My father died in that blast too, Katniss," Gale says dryly. "People aren't going to stop dying just because you love them."

"I know," I whisper. "But I wasn't talking about my father."

The room grows eerily silent, the howling wind outside and the ticking clock on the wall the only sounds to be heard.

I've told Gale how I can't forgive my mother. I've explained to him that even though I want so badly to, some things you just can't forget. I want to believe that she's really here for me now, but I feel like if I try to trust her again, I'll end up sorely disappointed.

And if the very person who gave you life lets you down, who _can _you trust?

"I'll never leave you behind," Gale finally tells me. "I'm going to do everything that I can to make sure that you never have to suffer again." And there's no doubt in my mind that, even though he's wasted right now, he still means what he says. Gale has sacrificed so much for myself and my family—working endless hours at a job he loathes, making sure that I stay fed, taking care of my mother and Prim even though he has no obligation to either of them.

His eyes are glazed over, and I can tell how tired he must be. Despite Gale's current state of inebriation, I find my way into his arms anyhow. He holds me for a good while, his face buried into the crook of my neck and my hard, massive belly sandwiched between us.

"Why won't you marry me, Catnip?" he asks me in a whisper, but I don't answer him. Instead, I lie there, squeezed tightly in his arms before I feel the even, steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling and I know that he's fallen asleep.

When I'm certain that he's out for the night, I scoot off to my bed to find a more comfortable sleeping position for my pregnant body. My back can't tolerate the awkward position of sleeping sitting up anymore, as I learned a few weeks ago in Panem History class.

When I wake in the morning, Gale's still out cold and snoring loudly. And that's when the burlap sack he'd left by the kitchen door last night catches my eye. Curiously, I pick up the half-empty bag and peek inside, expecting to find maybe an empty ale can or a half-flask of white liquor that would need to be poured out.

I gasp loudly when I find the remains of a freshly-killed chicken instead.


	22. Chapter 22

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 22_

The first thing that comes to mind when I see the dead bird in the bottom of Gale's game bag is that chickens are domesticated poultry—they do not live in the wild. They are considered a delicacy here and very few of even the Merchant-class can even afford them.

No. Even if Gale had wandered out into the woods drunk last night—had somehow managed to get himself through that electric fence—it would have been much less dangerous that stealing a chicken from a Merchant.

Stealing is punishable by death.

Everyone in 12 knows of this law, even the very young. The temptation is always there—the Cartwright's peach tree, the Mellark's pigs, the Price's chickens. If any of them were to catch a "filthy" Seam kid stealing food from them, they'd be executed by Cray immediately.

And now Gale has gone and done the worst thing he possibly could have.

A sense of pure terror runs through me. It's the same terror I feel when I dream of Prim being reaped, of my Mother falling into a depression again, of Gale dying of the poison, or of my baby being stillborn.

But that terror is only replaced with rage when I look into the sitting room where Gale still lies on our couch, sleeping soundly as if he hadn't just committed such a dangerous crime.

I waddle across the room quickly—I can't walk with any sort of finesse anymore—knocking Gale's muddy boots from where they lie perched on the arm of the sofa, causing him to awaken with a gasp.

He jumps a bit in surprise before rubbing the weariness from of his bloodshot eyes.

"Katniss?" he asks with a frown as he slowly sits himself up, obviously trying to remember how he'd gotten here last night and why he is still here this morning. "Wha-"

I shove the burlap sack roughly against his chest, and he jumps back in surprise.

"You need to get rid of this before Cray and the other Peacekeepers come looking for it," I tell him.

He grimaces as he glances down at the bag on his lap, obviously putting the pieces together of whatever had happened last night.

"Catnip," his tired, hungover voice rasps.

I shake my head. "Are you actually this stupid, Gale?" I ask him. "Or was is just the alcohol? What were you thinking? Going out and _stealing_ when you know that you'll be shot dead by the end of the day for this!"

Gale stands up suddenly, perhaps a little too quickly judging by the way that he sways slightly when upright and looks like he's about to throw up.

"Calm down."

"Don't you dare act like this was just another trip to the Hob. I know better, Gale!"

Gale swallows hard as he stares back at me. "Okay," he admits. "We agreed a long time ago that we'd rather die by a bullet to the head than to slowly starve to death, Katniss. How is taking from those who have more than enough so much different than poaching on Capitol land, huh?"

"The difference is that no one cares if we hunt, but right now but there's an angry Merchant out there who'll be fuming when he finds himself a chicken short this morning!"

"No one saw me," Gale says flatly.

"Oh? And are you sure about that? You might not as be as sly and cunning as you normally are when you're _drunk_!"

"I wasn't drunk!" Gale yells back, but then pulls his hand through his hair, sighing. "Okay, so I drank a bit at the Hob last night when I tried selling off some of Father's old things."

"So you sold your most prized possessions to buy some white liquor, did you?"

"No," he says. "I didn't. I got three coins for the last of a stack of old books after half an hour of haggling. Old Abernathy was there, and maybe he was feeling a little sympathetic, or maybe I was ranting a little too much about the Capitol-"

"In the _Hob_! Gale, you know we can't say anything inside the fence, not where officials or anyone else can hear."

"I know, I know."

"And you drank with Haymitch of all people? You detest that drunk. I can see it already, you turning into a bitter alcoholic at age 18."

"It was one night, and it's not like I'm ever going to do it again. I just.." he sighs. "Katniss, I don't think you know how much pressure I'm being put under here. No one can afford your mother's medicine right now, Prim and Rory signed up for tesserae, and you...you're withering away to nothing and you're about to give birth. Things aren't going to get any easier once the baby's here."

"You said everything would be fine," I mutter, hating how things always come back around to me. I've always felt that this whole mess was my fault, but I hate hearing that Gale blames me, too.

"I think we can agree that things will never be _fine_, Katniss," Gale says detestably. "Sure, it's especially hard right now, but when has it ever been _easy_? I'm doing what I have to do to keep you alive, and if that means sacrificing myself, well then so be it."

I shake my head. "You really are stupid," I tell him. "To criticize me for accepting help from Madge when we need it the most and then stealing food to get ahead. The most I ever cost you was your pride. This could mean your life, Gale!"

There's a long pause as he stares back at me in disbelief.

"So what do you want me to do?" he finally asks. "Bring the bird back to life and sneak it back into the coop, because I don't think that's a possibility here."

"Get out of here. And get rid of the chicken," I tell him. "Bury it next to your _dead_ _dog_."

He huffs in reply. His hard gaze if fixed on me, but I can't seem to meet it right now with the words I offer him next.

"I can't be with you if this is the way it's going to be. Maybe you have a lot to worry about, but so do I. I could lose Prim, you know that. Hell, I could even lose this baby before this is all done and over with. I sure as hell don't need to worry about losing you, too!"

"So what? Your ending this over a stupid stolen chicken?" he asks me.

I clench my teeth together, not because I'm angry, but because I'm so close to bursting into tears.

"I'll send for you when the baby's coming."

His eyes darken at my words.

"That's not _fair_, Katniss! You can't use this baby against me. This is my kid, too!"

"I didn't say that he wasn't," I retort. "And I would never use your child against you, but I'm not sure how much more of your self-sacrificing I can take. I just...I need to be away from you for awhile."

"For how long, Katniss?" he asks through gritted teeth. "Until that frigid heart of yours is capable of loving someone?"

I grimace at the insult directed towards me. But maybe he is right; maybe I'm just incapable of loving.

Some mother I'm going to make.

"Just go," I tell him.

Gale shakes his head.

"This ridiculous, Katniss. I won't let you push me out of your life just because you're scared. If you think that not being with you will keep me from doing whatever I have to do to keep you and the baby from suffering, you're wrong."

He waits for me to reply, but I don't. I can't speak to him right now; I can barely even look at him after what he's done.

And then he's gone, leaving his words echoing in my mind.

* * *

I'm lying on my side in the bedroom of our home, watching the snowflakes which fall to the ground outside. The weather has grown colder over the past week, dipping well below freezing during the night. This is the first snowfall of the year, and seeing as it isn't even officially winter yet, I know that it will be a brutal one.

It's been four days since I've spoken to Gale, but it feels like a lifetime.

Prim has fallen ill with the flu, so I spend my time helping our mother to do odd chores around the house to get my mind off of things—washing up our winter clothes, scrubbing the floor and windows, and even helping her sort through the medicinal herbs that she has been drying to store for the winter. All of this time that we spend together feels like we should be bonding, but instead neither of us say much.

Our home has never been spotless, but now it looks immaculate.

"You're nesting," my mother laughs one day, poking fun at me in an effort to cheer me up. I am certain that she overheard my argument with Gale the other day, but she's not commenting on it. I can tell that she struggles with the decision of whether to ask me about what had happened or to mind her own business. Seeing how the first never really works out, it seems that she's chosen the latter.

And the thing is that I'm not nesting—I'm just trying to distract myself from the terrible loneliness that has overtaken me. It's almost scary how much I've allowed myself to depend on _him_, not just for monetary support, but for the friendship we've shared over the past four years. He is more to me than just a hunting partner anymore, so much more that the thought of ever losing him causes my chest to constrict and my breath to labor—neither of which is particularly good for the unborn child I'm carrying.

So I spend my time doing simple jobs until my back all but breaks and I go to bed early.

When Gale does come to check in on me, my mother tells him that I'm sleeping. However, with the regular spasms taking place in my lower back, sleeps seems a million miles away.

That night Mother goes out to help a small boy in the Seam who has fallen ill with a dangerously high fever as I stay in, taking care of Prim and checking her temperature regularly. My mother has been offering up her services, helping many of the children who'd come down with whatever this bug is that is going around. Though no one can afford to pay her right now, my mother knows that many of her clients in the Seam will make good on finding a way to repay her come spring.

I just hope this illness is nothing serious, though I've taken to imagining worst case scenarios after everything I've gone through over the past several months.

"Katniss, I'm fine," Prim tries to convince me that night as I rush to give her a couple more fever-reducing tablets when I see that her fever hasn't broken yet. "It's the flu. My temperature isn't dangerously high, and I'm not hallucinating. You do have two heads, right?"

Handing her a glass of water and two small pills, I stop to smile down at my little sister, smoothing her sticky hair back from her sweaty forehead. It's amazing how she can still make me smile even when she's feeling so horribly.

"You need to relax, Katniss," she rasps, still looking pale and tired. "Get a hot compress for your back pain and go lie down."

The winter storm outside carries on through the night, as does my backache. I don't get much sleep, sitting up through the better part of the night hunched over on my bed with my hand resting on my lower back.

I try some hot tea and warm compresses as Prim had suggested, but nothing seems to work.

Come morning, I'm tired, sore, and several inches of snow have accumulated on the ground, though the storm has died down into just a few flurries. But the sun is out, and the day looks bright.

I meet my mother at the door as she trudges in with her medical bag in hand.

"How is the boy?" I ask her, taking her coat and shaking it out before hanging it up to dry.

"Fine," she tells me. "Reduced his fever and he's keeping down liquids."

"You look exhausted."

My mother smiles down at me, cupping my cheek with her ice cold hand. "I could say the same for you. Rough night?"

"A bit."

"Well," Mother tells me, unwinding the scarf from around her neck. "Considering all the snow outside and the fact that everyone seems to be coming down with a fever right now, I'm giving you the option of staying home from school today," she tells me. "With only three weeks to go, I'm not going to expect you to make the walk to school everyday, twice a day, especially on your own."

I think about it for a minute. What I wouldn't give to spend the day in bed as opposed to the cold building with my even colder classmates. But the thought of spending another restless day thinking about Gale and Prim and tesserae and all of the terrible things that could happen is going to drive me insane, and considering how spotless the house looks, I won't have anything to do to try to forget about any of that.

"You'll be here to care for Prim?"

My mother nods. "Unless something comes up. Then I can call on Hazelle. She's not doing much washing, what with the snow and all."

"I need to go then," I tell her. "Just this last week. I don't feel very useful around here anymore."

My mother smiles, not trying to change my mind, just nodding in understanding.

* * *

My persistent back pain eases slightly on my walk to school, but I'm still exhausted from my lack of sleep last night. About halfway to the school, however, I realize that I forgot all of my books at home.

It's too late to turn back, so groaning, I carry on.

I spend my morning in extreme discomfort, shifting my my chair throughout my morning classes to ease the strain on my thighs and back and squeezing the edge of my makeshift desk when the pain gets to be too much. I don't think much of it, since I'm never really all that comfortable anymore.

At lunch Madge is gone, no doubt at home with the fever. I sit alone at our table, empty-handed and lying my head down on the tabletop in an effort to squeeze in a short nap. But with all of the commotion going on around me and misery of my complete discomfort, it's impossible.

It's some time after fifth period when I go to the bathroom and discover that I'm bleeding. If that isn't enough, on my way back to class a wave of intense pain hits me all at once—a consuming cramp that causes my entire abdomen to harden into a tight ball. I place my palms and forehead against the cold tile of the hallway walls, seething in pain and panting until it finally lets up. Exhausted, I lean against the wall for support, wrapping my arm around my abdomen while still shaking from the intensity of the cramp I'd just experienced.

A contraction. I just had a contraction.

I've been feeling strange and achy all day, but I'd summed it up to fatigue and perhaps the beginning of the flu that has been going around. But the way that my back still aches makes me think that maybe this contraction wasn't my first one. Maybe I'd been having them all night.

And the blood? Well, there's a pretty good indicator of what's happening to me.

I'm in labor.


	23. Chapter 23

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 23_

**Warning: Mildly graphic birth scene ahead.**

Fifth period ends and soon the hallways fill with students who push past me, giving me strange glances as I brace myself against the wall at a loss for what to do.

I never counted on going in to labor at school. There's only two more periods left in the day, but I wonder if I can even make it until then, considering I'm not even sure how long I've actually been in labor.

I gather my things and decide to make for home. It's a long walk, which is never a good idea for anyone who's trying to delay labor, but it's not as if I have a choice. Another monster contraction hits a few minutes later when I reach the front doors of the school.

This isn't good. This really isn't good at all.

If the school nurse _were _here today, which she's not, at least I would have that option. But it's me, by myself, without Prim or anyone else to help me through this, and I don't want to deliver this baby by myself right here in the school hallway.

I exit the door to meet a fierce gust of cold air which whips a few stray strands of my hair about and chills me to the bone. Snow drifts around my feet and my skin tingles with the exposure to the sub-freezing temperatures. Squinting from the bright afternoon light that reflects off the snow that surrounds me, I keep moving.

I don't get very far when I have another contraction that's so painful it causes me to crumple down onto the ground. I thought the fake contractions I'd experienced outside the district were bad, but I really had _no idea. _My back hurts so much that tears sting my eyes, and all I can think is that this is only going to get worse.

I force myself up and make myself move again, but the contractions keep coming and continue to slow me down. It doesn't take me long to figure out that I'm never going to get myself back home. Feeling exhausted and hopeless, I fall in defeat into a snowdrift that lies between two businesses near the square. I'm too tired and in too much pain to walk anymore.

The sweetshop owner's wife glances at me from the corner of her eye as she passes by, but continues on her way. Typical.

I can't just lie here in the snow. No one is going to stop and help me, and if I stay here, I'm going to die and so will my baby.

I squeeze close my eyes, inhaling a deep breath before moving myself to stand. But I can feel my muscles beginning to contract again, and fall back into the snow before bursting into tears, moaning and crying at the same time as I wait what seems like an eternity for the excruciating pain to pass. I bury my face into my hands, feeling the mound of snow below me slowly soak through every inch of my clothing.

Out of all the ways one can die in 12, I never imagined that what would finally do me in would be hypothermia. All I can do is sit here and think of how cold I am and the fact that I'm doomed because there's no one here to get me out of _this_ mess.

That's when I feel a strong pair of arms lift me up from the snow.

* * *

My clothing is damp now and I'm shivering uncontrollably when he drapes his warm jacket over my shoulders.

"Katniss, are you sick?" Peeta asks me, his grasp firm on my bicep to help keep me from slumping back down to the ground. "I didn't think you looked too well in class today. Why are you out here by yourself?"

His cheeks and the tip of his nose are bright red and he's only in his sweater now, bouncing up and down a little in an effort to keep himself warm.

Of course Peeta would be the one to come and help me. The only boy in my class who was ever really kind to me. The same one I got snarky with when he put his reputation on the line for me.

I lick my chapped lips, not really wanting to explain my situation in the fear that he may flee in the opposite direction when I tell him the truth. But it's not like he isn't going to figure it out when another contraction hits.

"I'm having contractions," I finally admit, placing the palm of my hand on my belly and willing this whole nightmare to just go away on its own right now. "I-I think that I'm in labor."

His mouth gapes a bit as his gaze fixes on me.

"Are you sure?" he asks me. "I mean, maybe they're just those practice contractions again."

"I don't know...I don't think so," I tell him nervously. "They're..._bad, _Peeta_._"

"Well, when are you _supposed _to have your baby?"

"Not for another three weeks, but my mother said that...that I..." I start, but I feel another contraction coming again. Another contraction that is so consuming that turns out to be the mother of all contractions.

"Katniss?" he asks me when I double over, my entire body drawing stiff with pain.

This one is the most intense yet, causing me to wince and sob my way through it. Peeta has his hand on my back and is trying to ask me something, but all I can focus on is that fact that this contraction is going to _kill _me. Just as it ends, I feel a sudden warm gush of liquid between my legs. Humiliated, at first I think that I've wet myself, but when I realize what's just happened, I just _wish_ that I had.

"Oh, _no,_" I mutter to myself.

Peeta places his hands on my shoulders once the pain has faded and I'm standing upright again, worry evident in his features. His eyes follow mine down to the soaked stockings that cover my legs. He looks back at me with uncertainty as to what just happened.

"Are you okay?"

My bottom lip starts to tremble as I begin to cry.

"Katniss, tell me what's wrong," Peeta demands as he places his hand on the small of my back in an effort to comfort me. "I don't understand. What just happened?"

I was pretty certain that I was in labor before, but this means that there's no turning back. I'm going to have this baby, and soon. If memory serves right, my water breaking is a sign that my contractions are about to get a lot stronger. I remember my mother doing it for women who'd been in labor for awhile to get things rolling, and the painful cries and moans that followed soon after.

Things are about to get bad. Really, really bad.

"My water broke," I tell him with a sob as I smear tears across my cheeks with the cuffs of my wet jacket sleeves.

Peeta's warm, comforting hands leave me all at once as if he's afraid to touch me. I'm scared, but I feel so bad for him to have to be in this situation with me. I'm not his responsibility. He's not the one who impregnated me, and there's really no reason he should feel obligated to stop and help me. I can't say that I would blame him if he left me alone right now with this problem that I caused myself, but of course he doesn't.

His hand finally comes up to pat my back with uncertainty and he kneels down a bit to meet my gaze. His eyes are gentle and reassuring and I manage to calm myself down enough to focus on solving the problem at hand instead of how screwed I am.

"Look," he says, "I can help you get to the apothecary shop. It's not too far from here; surely we can make it in time."

"No," I answer, trembling slightly. "They'd just turn me away because my family can't afford it."

He nods in understanding, obviously not having thought that idea completely through. Surely he knows that no one in the Seam can afford their services.

Peeta frowns, obviously unsure of what to do with me, but too good of a person to leave me on my own.

"Maybe, you can just go fetch my mother?" I suggest.

"Where is she?"

"At home with my sister," I begin, and he shakes his head at me. "What?" I ask.

"I don't know where you live."

"Right..." I agree with a shaky sigh.

When another contraction hits, this one even more intense that the previous ones, Peeta allows me to lean on him for support, and I instinctively bunch the fabric of the front his sweater between my hands until it finally passes.

He circles my back with the palm of his hand in a soothing motion until my breaths are less labored and the pain has momentarily ceased.

"Look," he finally says, "standing here won't do you any good. I'll just see you to your house, okay? You think you're good to walk?"

I really have no choice in the matter, so I nod. At least I know that with Peeta, I won't have to die of hypothermia in some snow bank on my way to the Seam.

We walk about two blocks with his arm linked through mine to keep me from slipping or tripping before we both realize that this just isn't working. I'm too slow and tired and every time I have a contraction, it stops our progress. I don't mention the fact that my walking is only decreasing the time between contractions.

"We're not going to make it," I finally admit after we stop for another contraction. "They're getting too close together, and there's too far to travel."

Peeta looks horrified, but tries desperately to keep his composure. He runs his hand through his hair nervously as he contemplates our problem.

I'm certain that he doesn't want to deliver my baby anymore than _I _want him to.

"Katniss, I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, okay? Whenever you have to stop, we lose time, and if I can just carry you through your contractions, we'll get there a lot more quickly."

I nod, since there's no disagreeing with his logic. School ended over an hour ago, and at this rate, we won't get back until after dark.

"Just...Katniss?" he asks tensely with a slight pause, "if there's anything you can do about it, please...try _really _hard not to have your baby yet."

I'm feel irritated at him for such a ridiculous request. As if I'd choose to have my child in the arms of the baker's youngest son. But then again, he's a 16 year old boy, how can I expect him to know anything about childbirth?

I can't get angry with the only person who's offering to help me.

Holding my tongue, I allow Peeta to lift me up into his arms, a bit surprised of how easy it seems to be for him. Gale must not have be exaggerating when he told me I was wasting away to nothing.

Having someone I hardly know carry me bridal-style through the district is about the most awkward thing I've ever experienced, but we do move along more quickly this way.

Peeta carries me into the Seam as quickly as he can move with me in his arms, stopping to adjust his grip on me ever so often when my body pulls tight with a contraction. He doesn't stop to comfort me when they happen anymore, but moves with even more determination when the contractions start coming one on top of another.

The amount of pressure builds uncomfortably in my pelvis.

"Peeta," I moan against his chest when we're finally traveling through the Seam. "Peeta, I have to push."

The urge to is overwhelming, and I can't help it.

"Katniss, don't push!" he tells me as he jogs along and my body bounces in his arms, a motion that only seems to make the pressure even more intense. "Whatever you do, don't push!" he pleads desperately with me. "I have no clue how to deliver a baby."

I try not to, but I do end up pushing just a little since I can't seem to control the urge to do so.

"I'm going to die," I groan out load when the pain is too much to take anymore and I'm too tired to think rationally. "It hurts too much, and I'm going to die before we even get there," I cry out.

"You are _not _going to die," Peeta seems to be trying to convince himself more than me. "Your mother delivers babies all the time, right? Just hang on, Katniss, we're getting close."

I alert Peeta when the familiar homes of my neighbors come into view, and feel him exhale a breath of relief.

"Katniss!"

I hear Gale's panicked voice before I see him, and suddenly my weight is being shifted into another set of arms. My hands cling to the fabric of his filthy miner's shirt, and I can see the look of confusion and relief that crosses his face. I can only imagine what a mess I look like now—clothing soaked and dirty, loose hair in messy tangles, and I must have dark bags under my eyes by now considering how tired I feel.

He frowns when he looks at Peeta.

"What happened to her?"

I don't like the accusation in his voice, but I know that he must be confused, considering that he has no clue what I've been through the past several hours or why I look like death right now.

"Water broke...w-walking home," I tell him breathlessly, burying my face into his shirt when I'm slammed with another contraction. I don't know what he says or does next, just that we're moving in the direction of my home.

I catch a glimpse of Peeta still standing in the same place on the street as we ascend the stairs of my front porch, noting the look of worry on his face. The terror I feel for what's happening to me reflects back in his own eyes—an expression that all but masks another emotion, that, if I didn't know better, would resemble something like envy.

We'd both just avoided what could have been one of the worst disasters in the history of childbirth, so the question is, _what _does he have to be jealous of_?_

* * *

As soon as the front door of my home swings open, my mother must know what's happening, because she begins pulling her supplies out of the cabinets right away. Hazelle is in our home for some reason, and holds her arms open for my mother to deposit various items into them.

"Her water's already broken," Gale tells them, his grip becoming a little more tense as he speaks.

She nods, pulling out a crisp, white sheet and beginning to unfold it.

"Please," I beg as I look down at the hard kitchen table where my family eats their meals each night, where my mother has healed people, where people had died, and where all of the babies my mother delivers are birthed. "Don't make me give birth on the table. Mother, please don't make me."

I'm not sure why I suddenly feel so strongly against it at this point, considering I was more than ready to have this child outside in the street. But she's my mother, and I don't want to be just another one of her patients.

Mother pauses for a second as Gale meets her gaze with a pleading look.

"Of course not, sweetheart. Gale, take her to her bed."

When my body meets the warm and comforting familiarity of my mattress, hands work at removing my wet clothing as Hazelle searches for a nightgown for me to wear.

"Prim?" I manage between contractions as my mother tugs the nightshirt over my head. Things have become so dire that my modesty is now nonexistent despite the fact that I'm bare naked and Gale's mother is here.

"Don't worry about Prim," Mother tells me, urging me to lie back as she checks my cervix. "She's at Hazelle's house. Rory's looking after her."

"We had a search party out looking for you when you didn't come home," Gale chimes in. "I thought you'd gone back to check the fence and had gotten into trouble again. Guess I was only half right."

"My back hurts," I whimper.

"Back labor," Hazelle mumbles. The term doesn't make sense to me, but I'm assuming the sooner I get this kid out of me, the sooner it will stop.

"You're fully dilated," my mother alerts me after she finishes checking. "Time to start pushing."

My mother directs Gale to hold my leg up against my body and instructs me to bear down when the next contraction comes. As frightening as the feeling is of pushing a child through your birth canal, I heed her advice, my face scrunching up as I tuck my chin into my chest.

"Push with your body, not your face, sweetheart," my mother directs me.

This goes on for quite awhile—me baring down as hard as I can with each contraction as my mother counts to ten, but still no baby.

"I _can't_ do it!" I complain as I throw my head back, so physically exhausted and so tired of pushing and never getting anywhere. I can't take it anymore. My body feels like it's just been hit by a train, and I just want this to all be over so that I can finally go to sleep.

"You _are _doing it, Katniss," my mother assures me as Gale runs his fingers through my hair, which only succeeds at irritating me even more.

"I can't. It's not coming out!"

Hazelle is trying to show me breathing techniques as Gale continues to smooth back my hair, telling me how _great _I'm doing, but all I want to do is hit him for saying something so stupid. I've been pushing for what seems like eons, and obviously nothing is happening.

"What do _you_ know?" I finally snap at him when he repeats the phrase for what seems to be the thousandth time and I push his hands away from me. I'm sick of people touching me, I'm sick of them trying to comfort me, and I want to cry because it feels like this should all be over by now.

"I'm just trying to help," he tells me defensively as he backs away.

"I'm not doing great, and you're not helping!" I finally scream at him as beads of sweat roll down my forehead.

Gale glowers down at me before finally stepping away to the other side of the room, as if he's finally had enough of me. I can't blame him for giving up; I hate everyone and everything right now. I don't want to be in labor anymore, I don't want to be in pain anymore, and I certainly don't want a group gathered around me while I lie here in front of them with my privates on display. I just want to go to sleep and forget about all of this.

"Katniss," my mother finally says. "The way the baby is positioned is causing you to have to work a little harder to get him out. It's not unusual for someone to have to push this long; trust me. You're making progress, you just have to keep going."

I don't know what Hazelle is saying to Gale in the corner of the room, but whatever it is causes him to nod at her in agreement as he rubs the back of his neck. It isn't long before he's taking his place back at my side, this time a little quieter and a little less handsy.

A few more pushes, and my mother alerts me that she can see the top of the baby's head. Before I know it, he's crowned. One push later, I deliver the shoulders and a husky wail fills the room.

I fall back exhausted against the pillow behind me, so immensely happy that it's over with.

Gale seems to have forgotten about me momentarily when my mother passes the small bundle off into Hazelle's arms, which are already waiting with a clean towel. I can make out his tiny, wrinkly red body covered with gunk and the sticky patch of dark hair that covers the child's head. His tiny arms are sprawled open, shaking as he screams. I haven't spent a lot of time around newborns, but when I realize how small my baby is in comparison to Nella's, I feel nothing but dread. But he's crying, which means that he has to be breathing on his own, right?

Gale is rounding the bed in a heartbeat, staring down adoringly at the tiny infant in his mother's arms with complete awe. He lifts his hands to touch the screaming child with a smile, tears glazing his eyes.

"Congratulations," I hear Hazelle whisper to her son.

"A _girl..._" he says as I attempt to crane my head to get a better look. "Katniss, it's a girl!" he announces excitedly, surprisingly leaving out the "I told you so" I had almost expected to follow.

Hazelle bundles the baby up a little more tightly before handing her over to her father, who can't seem to stop beaming with pride. Gale appears to have taken to fatherhood immediately, looking like a natural holding our daughter. He sways his body slightly until her wails quiet down into light fussing.

"She's so tiny and perfect," he says as he kneels down at the side of my bed with her in his hands.

I want nothing more than to hold my newborn daughter, but I'm feeling so tired and faint and dizzy that I'm afraid the moment Gale places her into my arms I might drop her on the floor. I can barely even keep my eyes open long enough to get a good look at her.

"I'm tired," I tell him.

"I know, Catnip," he says back to me. "It's over. We have our little girl."

I smile at him tiredly, trying desperately to keep my eyes open for just a little longer, but the room seems to be spinning around me.

My mother has already delivered the afterbirth and works at stitching me up. I want to ask her if it's normal to feel like this, but stop when I realize that her brows are drawn together in concentration and worry—I've seen that look before when complications arise with patients, and it makes my blood run cold.

Gale seems to feel that something must be wrong, too, because when he looks down to where my mother is busily working to mend my torn flesh, he asks, "Should she be bleeding so much?"

And that's the last thing I hear before everything goes dark.


	24. Chapter 24

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 24_

When I awaken, our home is dark and eerily quiet. The only sounds I can hear come from the ticking wall clock and the slow, steady creak of one of the kitchen chairs. It seems like a lot more should be happening right now, and the only reason I can tell that my mother is still here is by her shadow that casts on the wall in the kitchen.

I roll out of my bed, padding across the room and into the kitchen where she sits. I expect to find her reorganizing and sanitizing her medical supplies as she always does after seeing a patient. If not that, maybe reading, knitting, mending clothes—_anything_, really, besides sitting there almost completely still and staring blankly at the wall in front of her. I'm terrified because the way she doesn't even turn her head to acknowledge the fact that I'm now in the same room feels all too familiar.

"Where is everyone?" I ask her with no reply.

"Where'd Gale go?" I ask again. "He didn't already go home did he?"

She still fails to answer my question. Becoming agitated with her, I speak more loudly.

"Where'd they go!" I demand. "Where's my baby?"

I look around room desperately, but there's no sign of the tiny infant I'd just delivered hours ago. I should be feeding my daughter right now, not standing here asking my mother where the hell my baby is at. Surely Gale and his mother wouldn't attempt to carry a newborn clear across the Seam in several feet of snow in the wintertime. And what reason would they have to do so in the first place?

A terrible feeling begins to build in my gut.

"Where's my daughter?" I demand, sinking down to grasp my mother's shoulders. "Where'd she go!" I scream, jostling her roughly as I shake her shoulders.

Something's wrong; I can feel it in my bones. There's a reason why she refuses to answer me, why everyone has suddenly disappeared.

Finally, and thankfully, she looks up to meet my tearful gaze.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," she finally whispers.

"Sorry for what?" I ask her, trembling slightly as I dread her response. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"I tried to save her. I did everything I was capable of," she goes on. She's looking at me now, but her eyes still don't quite meet mine. I'm shaking my head as she tells me, "She was just too small."

I double over, feeling like someone has just punched me hard in the stomach.

"No," I say. "You're wrong."

"She was just too small," my mother reminds me again. "I'm so sorry, Katniss."

I take a step back so quickly that I back into the shelves where we keep the medicines and send many of them crashing to the floor in the process.

"She was fine when she was born!" I scream. "She was breathing!"

"I'm so sorry," Mother tells me again, almost mechanically.

"Where's Gale?" I demand. "I need Gale."

My mother just shakes her head.

"Where is he!"

But I don't give her a chance to answer me before I'm tearing across the room and out the door, leaving it swung open behind me. I can't even stifle the gasp that leaves my lungs when I look around me. Somehow, during the duration of my sleep, the several inches of snow that had accumulated over the past two days is gone, melted. The dirt streets of the Seam have turned to mud, sucking my bare feet down into it as I make for Gale's house.

My mother is confused, she has to be.

I look up at the sound of a train whistle, and suddenly I'm in the square. I don't even know how I've gotten here. I'm still in my nightshirt and bare feet, and I'm wedged in a crowd of kids all dressed in their Reaping Day clothes. But it's _not _Reaping Day, it's January.

I feel claustrophobic as they begin to close in on me—the sullen eyes of those who are waiting to hear their fate.

There's a loud squeal that comes from the stage sitting in front of the Justice Building as Effie Trinket taps one of her elaborately-painted claws on the metal microphone.

"Primrose Everdeen!" her voice chants excitedly over the speakers, my little sister's name echoing over the square.

My eyes snap up and I catch sight of a set of blond braids being led towards the stage by a Peacekeeper.

"Prim?"

"Stop!"

"Prim!" my voice cracks as they lead her away.

Even though I'm screaming at the top of my lungs in an effort to grab her attention, she keeps walking. The children surrounding me don't allow for a break in the crowd so that I can get to her, and I find myself forcefully pushing through them, toppling a few of the smaller ones down onto the ground. When I finally manage to break through the crowd, I just catch a glimpse of Haymitch Abernathy leading her up the stairs to the train.

I'm at the top of the steps when the doors slide shut in my face and the train goes speeding away.

"No!" I scream, falling down onto my knees at the top of the splintered steps as I watch the train quickly disappear beyond the trees. I close my eyes as I punch against the wooden planks beneath me, my fists bloodying in the process.

When I open my eyes, I'm standing at the side of a gallows which has somehow appeared in the center of the square overnight. Cray is standing atop the platform, reading off a list of crimes being charged—burglary, trespassing, and theft—while two other Peacekeepers hold their rifles on the tall man standing with his hands bound tightly behind his back and a noose draped around his neck.

I know who it is before he even turns his head to meet my gaze.

"I'm sorry, Catnip," Gale mouths to me as they slip the dark bag over his head. Instantly, I begin to make towards the platform, but a pair of hands grab me by my arms before I'm able to do so. I struggle to free myself of his grasp, but his hands tighten around my wrists as I attempt to break away.

"Katniss, no!" he hisses. "There's nothing you can do," Peeta says, trying to calm me as I use what little strength I have to try and wrench out of his grasp. "They'll just kill you too," he tells me when I finally manage to slip from his hold on me.

I'm just at the bottom step when Cray pulls the lever that sends Gale swaying slightly by the tightened rope around his neck, and I fall to the muddy ground in a heap at the sight.

And in an instant, everyone that I love is gone.

There's a pressure in my chest that has been building. and I wonder if this will be my demise—death by a broken heart. What do I have to live for anymore, besides?

* * *

There's a warm tickle on my neck, and as I open my eyes, they strain against the morning sun and I find myself back in my bed. A heavy arm is draped across my chest—it's weight the source of the pressure, obviously. I feel the scratchy sensation of the unshaven jaw buried in the back of my neck and the slow and steady breath of the person sleeping behind me. I look down at the arm that's wrapped around me—muscular, tan, and riddled with various scars.

I feel like I'm too weak to move at all, especially with his arm wrapped so protectively around my torso, and my body feels like it's been through hell and back.

"Gale," I say, my voice strained and frail from fatigue and disuse. I doubt that it's loud enough to wake him until he stirs in his sleep and suddenly his face is looming over me.

"Katniss, you're awake," he says, clearly relieved. I open my mouth the reply to the obviousness of his statement, but he leans down to kiss me before I can. His lips linger over my chapped ones for a moment, and I finally manage to wrap a tired arm around his neck. His beautiful, unscathed neck. After the dream I'd just had, the last thing I want is for this kiss to end, but eventually he pulls away. "You were out for so long. I was-" he frowns, shaking his head. "You we're really sick, I was so scared that you wouldn't wake up."

"What happened?" I ask him, groggily. The last thing I remember before passing out was my mother stitching me up.

"You lost a lot of blood," he tells me, his voice quivering slightly with emotion. "Your mother says that you tore pretty badly during labor. We thought it was something worse, something internal, but she managed to sew you up and stop the bleeding. You bled so much though, and there was nothing she could do but wait. Your heart started speeding up so fast. For a minute-" Gale pauses, closing his eyes and nuzzling his face against my hair. "I didn't know if you would ever get to hold her."

My eyes widen when I finally realize someone else is still missing.

"Gale, the baby!" I begin, attempting to sit up, but I'm still too weak and dizzy and there's a sharp pain that shoots through my body when I move. "She was so small. It's because I didn't eat enough; I should have eaten when you told me to. She was too little. She's sick, isn't she? She was born too early, and-"

I begin to panic, but Gale firmly grasps onto my shoulders, shaking his head.

"No, no, no..." he says, trying desperately to reassure me. "Catnip, calm down."

"I didn't take care of myself enough when I was pregnant," I tearfully admit. "All that time in the woods. getting stuck outside the district. The poison, Gale! I exposed my baby to some unknown toxin from the _Capitol_!"

But Gale doesn't answer; he is too busy getting up and making his way across the room. My eyes fall on the small, white cradle in the corner that must have been pulled out of Hazelle's storage some time during the night. Gale leans over the edge with a smile, gently scooping up a tiny, pink-swaddled bundle before settling down next to me on the mattress.

"Hang on," he tells me, holding the baby in the crook of one arm as he uses his other to prop my torso up with an extra pillow before laying her in my lap.

I look down, and my breath is instantly taken away.

Her hands are balled up in tight fists next to her face, which scrunches up slightly as she begins to fuss in my arms. She lets out a small wail as I loosen the blanket around her before reaching down to stroke the back of her tiny fist. Her skin is so incredibly soft and delicate, like flower petals. I'm still too weak to trust myself to hold her alone, and Gale's arms wrap around both of us as he helps me hold her in my arms.

"She's small, but she's so healthy, Katniss," he tells me. "Came out screaming and cried through the better part of the night," he tells me as I stifle a laugh. "Your mom said she's the healthiest she's ever delivered, though she might be a bit biased about her first grandchild."

She's still crying, but even crying she's easily the most beautiful child I've ever laid eyes on.

"I also changed her first diaper while you were out, and you officially owe me for having to deal with _that _mess alone."

I pull the tiny white hat that she wears away from her head curiously, passing my fingers over the soft, black tuft of unruly hair at the top of her scalp.

"She's perfect," I whisper in disbelief, because it almost seems too good to be true. I'm terrified the joy that I'm feeling right now might just be another dream that I will awaken from at any moment and reality will come crashing back.

"She is," he agrees.

Not being able control this new emotion that hits me so strongly, tears begin to flow freely as I let out a small sob. After everything that's happened to us over the past several months, I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted. And, even though that heavy, menacing weight still looms over our heads, maybe it's going to be okay after all. Because after all the pain and hardships Gale and I have lived through over the period of our very short lives, this little piece of us is the single shred of hope we'll always have to hold onto.

Gale rubs my back as I cry. I want this to be a happy day, and I _am _happy. But behind that happiness is a constant fear that will probably always plague me. My little girl doesn't understand yet the kind of world that she's been born into—the challenges she will face for the rest of her life. She won't know them for awhile. I wish that she would never have to.

The sound of my own sobs are easily drowned out by her small, needful cries, and I find myself laughing despite the tears in my eyes. I don't even know how to make her stop crying, though her wails remind me of how very much alive she is.

"I don't know what to do," I admit as I bring my wrist up the wipe away my tears, my breath still shaky.

"Talk to her," Gale says. "She'll know your voice."

I attempt to wrap her in her blanket a little more tightly before drawing her up towards my chest. I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to a baby that is only hours old. I never knew that someone so small could be so intimidating.

So instead I begin to sing.

Her cries begin to die down immediately. I continue humming softly until they have all but dwindled away and she is staring back up at me in wonder. I'm sure I look like nothing but a giant blob to her at this age, but she seems to know who I am. I gently pat her bottom with the hand that supports her back, remembering seeing other mothers do the same with their infants. The combination of my voice and the steady rhythm of my hand patting simultaneously seem to soothe her enough to stop crying. It isn't long before she's nodding off again, her fists stretched up alongside her face.

"She sleeps with her hands up," Gale says with a smile, and I laugh.

"Must have been the way she slept inside me." I look up at him, realizing neither of us can go on calling her "she."

"What did you name her?" I ask him, remembering the agreement made by the lake halfway through my pregnancy.

He smiles.

"I, uh...I actually thought that you'd might want the honor," he tells me sheepishly. "After how hard you had to work to bring her into the world after all."

It's funny, but over the past several months I'd never actually spent any time trying to think up names, not even one for the boy that I was certain I would have. I was too busy worrying that he or she may never even get the chance to be born. I had joked about naming the child after Gale, but neither of us really took that idea seriously.

Gale sits quietly, running his calloused fingers over the downy-soft hair of our daughter's tiny head.

"No one will expect you to come up with something right away," he assures me. "Though my mother may want to put her two cents in if she doesn't have a name by her first birthday."

I laugh, but I don't need that long.

"Phacelia."

The name leaves my lips before I even realize that I'm naming her; it comes to me instantly. I'm reminded of the purple-colored wildflower every time I'm in the meadow.

When I was young, I remember my father buying irlip bulbs for my mother to plant in a flower garden she kept in the backyard. They were Capitol hybrids—"mutt flowers" if you will, genetically altered to produce giant, fragrant blooms that don't wither until well into late summer. Mother always kept her garden in pristine condition, weeding it daily and keeping it watered. Back when she was nothing but a homemaker, it was the one extravagant hobby she allowed herself. Through droughts and harsh winters, the flowers bloomed early every spring without fail because they were scientifically altered to do so.

One day Father spotted a few Phacelia flowers that had somehow popped up in mother's garden. When he went to pull them, she'd stopped him.

"Leave them," she had said. When he asked why she would want to bunch of weeds growing in her garden, she'd told him that there was something beautiful about something so unplanned. They weren't purchased from the general store with the promise of everlasting blooms resistant to insects and weather. They just popped up through the soil only when and where the temperature and elements were just right. A "happy surprise" she'd called them.

"Phacelia," Gale says thoughtfully. "It's beautiful."

"I guess we've settled on a name then," my Mother says from doorway with a knowing smile. She crosses the room, leaning over to kiss my forehead before smoothing her hand over Phacelia's head.

"A beautiful name for my new beautiful granddaughter. How are we feeling?" Mother asks, taking my wrist in her hand to check my pulse.

"Tired and sore," I admit with a sigh.

I feel like I must be swollen between my legs, and every time I adjust my position on the bed, I swear I can feel my stitches tearing. I wonder how long my mother spent stitching me up last night. Then again, given my squeamishness about blood and illness, maybe it's best _not_ to think about it.

"You're heart rate is getting back to normal," she tells me, dropping my wrist and patting my arm.

"What about the baby?" I ask.

"Healthy as a horse," Mother answers with a smile. "Good color, breathing well, crying _extremely_ well. I don't see how you could ask for a more perfect daughter."

"Shouldn't I be feeding her though?" I wonder out loud. "Isn't she hungry? How long was I even out?"

"About 14 hours. Don't worry, she didn't go hungry while you were asleep. We had to supplement a bit, but the sooner you can nurse her, the better. But first we should get some fluids into you. I have some tea boiling that should help you start to build your blood supply back up," she tells me, disappearing into the kitchen before returning with a large glass of orange liquid and placing it into my hand.

"What sort of tea is this?" I ask, wrinkling my nose. It's cold and smells acidic, like something familiar I can't quite put my finger on.

"Not tea. Orange juice. Also good for rebuilding your blood supply."

"Where did you get orange juice at?" I ponder as I look down into my cup. Oranges are an extravagant expense here, forget being able to afford enough to make juice with.

"The Undersees sent a gift basket this morning," she informs me as I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "News travels fast."

"Just don't tell Gale," I tease, knowing well that he's still sitting right next to me.

"Considering the circumstances, I think I'll let this one slide," he says, taking our daughter from my arms so I can finish my drink.

"Since when do the Undersees send gift baskets to new Seam mothers?" I ask, taking a swallow of juice. It's sweeter than anything I've ever tasted, and I try to drink it slowly even though I'm parched.

"I don't think that they do," he answers, shifting the baby in his arms. "Madge may have had more to do with it than her father."

"She wasn't even at school yesterday," I say, curiously. "I wonder if it was Peeta that told her."

Gale nestles Phacelia down into the crook of his arm again, and I can't help but to smile at how quickly he's taken to fatherhood. I'm sure he'd gotten plenty of practice with Posy, but it's nice to know at least one of us knows the basics of caring for a newborn.

"The Mellark kid saved your neck last night," Gale acknowledges, glancing up at me curiously. "He carried you all the way home from school?"

"Most of the way, yes," I answers. "Why? Are you _jealous_?" I tease with a smile.

"Ha, ha," he answers with a smile. "That might actually be funny if it weren't for the fact that he's been pretty into you for awhile."

I almost choke on my juice.

"Into me?" I ask him, lifting my wrist up to wipe my lips.

Gale rolls his eyes. "Come on, Katniss. You really didn't see it? The way he always looked at you when we went to trade. The two loaves of bread for a scrawny squirrel. A surplus of freshly-baked goods? Yeah, I bet."

I think about my history with Peeta Mellark. There isn't much of one, to be honest, but he has gone out of his way to help me on numerous occasions. What had I ever done for him except sell squirrels to his father? I don't want to believe that what Gale says is true. Maybe Peeta is just a good human being. But then I remember that look on his face as Gale carried me away from his arms—the look of envy. Was he jealous of Gale? Was he jealous of what I had with him? It all makes too much sense for me to dismiss.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I ask Gale. "If you knew that Peeta had a crush on me all along?"

He smiles. "Couldn't have the baker kid stealing my girl, right?"

I blush.

"You never had much to worry about. Not with Peeta or anyone else," I tell him, but at the same time my stomach lurches at the thought that I had most likely—albeit unintentionally—hurt Peeta. He had put his reputation, as well as his heart, on the line to help me even though we both knew I'd never be able to return whatever feelings he has for me.

I will never be able to thank him enough, let alone even begin to repay him.

"Good to know," Gale says, turning his attention back towards the baby.

"I'm sorry for blowing up the other day," I tell Gale when I realize that I still owe him an apology about our falling out. "I was miserable and hormonal and just...well, scared."

He shakes his head as I try to word my apology appropriately. It seems that things are fine between us now, but I know what it's like to feel desperate to protect the ones you love. It was a poor use of judgment on his part—stealing from a merchant—but I can't say I wouldn't have done the same if it meant keeping the people I care about alive.

I remember how it felt in my dream watching Prim being Reaped, watching them execute Gale, finding out my baby hadn't made it. I realize now how quickly I would have taken any of their places in such a dire situation. The only thing worse than dying is watching the people you love die.

"No," he tells me. "It was stupid. I have a daughter who needs me and a family to support. I'll be no use to either of you dead."

I take his left hand into mine and he easily holds the tiny newborn in his right arm. When I lean down to place a gentle kiss on the back of his knuckles, Gale arches his eyebrows in surprise.

I don't want to think about anybody dying right now, not when I had just cheated death hours ago. I want to know that, no matter what happens after this, I didn't let the prospect of our uncertain future keep me from living my life today. Keeping myself from loving Gale isn't going to solve any of our problems.

After my father died, I told myself that I would never fall in love because I didn't want to become my mother. I told myself that I'd never have children because I wouldn't stand in the crowd on Reaping Day and watch them be taken away. Somehow, over the past year, I've managed to do both. However, I can't look at it as if it were a huge mistake—loving Gale or having Phacelia.

"I want you in my life," I tell him, and his expression softens. "I never want to let you go again, no matter what stupid things you do."

He nods, offering me a sheepish grin. "I'm here."

I bring a tired hand up to cup his jaw, and Gale wraps his arm around me, leaning in so that I can kiss him while being mindful of the baby sandwiched in between us.

"I love you," I finally tell him just under my breath. He hears me, because I feel his body stiffen against mine. "I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to say it."

It's still not easy for me to admit, scary almost—the concept of loving someone else so much and knowing that there's a possibility that one day one of us might end up alone and brokenhearted. But I must be feeling brave today.

"Better late than never," he says softly, leaning in to kiss me again.

**XxX**

**AN: There's one more chapter left after this one. And sorry for the delay, **_**again. **_


	25. Chapter 25

_Seasons of Wither, Chapter 25_

I stand in front of the cracked, full-length mirror in the corner of my old bedroom as my mother stands behind me, her nimble fingers working my hair into a braid. She tucks in strands of hair, pinning them until the elaborate braid looks neat a precise. It doesn't exactly match the aging, slightly-yellowed knee-length dress that I'm wearing, but somehow I look presentable.

Mother smiles at my reflection in the mirror while Prim bounces up and down where she sits on the mattress of her bed.

"You're so pretty!"

I smile. "I guess I'll do."

My mother tsks, cupping my jaw in her hand. "Always so modest, Katniss. You look beautiful; so mature."

She takes an old pearl necklace from the jewelry box on her dresser, stringing it around my neck. It's the same one she's wearing in the wedding photo that still sits on the mantel above our fireplace. It contrasts nicely against my dark skin, but it makes the old fabric of the lace dress I'm wearing look even more discolored.

"Tradition," she tells me, spinning me around to take me in. "Is Gale ready?"

"Hazelle had a time trying to wake him this morning. He worked late."

"Phacelia?"

"I nursed her before I came over. Hazelle seemed to be having some success in soothing her before I left."

"Good," my mother says, leaning over to slip on her nicest dress shoes. "Maybe she'll be a bit less fussy today."

"Don't count on it," I tell her with a smile. My child is healthy, but she's a crier. My mother assures me that colic ends at three months of age, but we're only six weeks in and the crying seems like it never stops.

My sister and I follow my mother to the Hawthorne's house, our arms linked together.

When we arrive, Hazelle's moving about the kitchen in a flurry, busily preparing the dinner we'll be feasting on when we return from the Justice Building. We didn't have the money to buy a cake, or even a decent baker's loaf of bread, but we've made do. A large pot of stew is bubbling on the stove as Hazelle throws in the last handful of vegetables.

"Should be done about the time we get back," she tells us.

Prim and Mother help her clean up the kitchen a bit as I look for Gale. I find him sleeping with Phacelia on the sofa in their sitting room, fully dressed in his reaping day clothing—the only outfit he owns that isn't covered in soot from the mines. They still fit him though. Sort of.

I smile as I stand over his slumbering figure, our tiny infant daughter lying on his chest with Gale's large palm splayed out protectively over her tiny back. Her cheek is pressed against her father's heart, her lips parting slightly as she sleeps. Phacelia has grown over the past month and a half, but she's still tiny.

I nudge Gale slightly as not to startle him or our slumbering daughter. His eyes blink open, and he offers me a tired smile.

"You're spoiling her rotten letting her sleep with you like that," I tell him.

He raises his eyebrows at me. "So?"

I grin. "So no wonder she won't sleep in her cradle at night."

He sits up, holding Phacelia steadily against his chest as he takes in my appearance.

"I never thought I'd see the day," he tells me, shaking his head and rubbing some of the sleepiness out of his eyes. He's cleaned up nicely—has even found the time for a decent shave—though he still has a severe case of bedhead.

I look down at my dress, smoothing my hands over it self-consciously. It still tugs awkwardly around my misshapen midsection, and for once I have the ample bust for filling out the top. I still don't feel like my old self, but I'm getting there.

"Things have changed," I tell him, holding my arms out for our daughter. I settle her into my lap, and instantly she begins fussing and rooting. I'd just fed her two hours ago, but Phacelia seems to be going through a growth spurt this week, nursing around the clock. Most of Hazelle's old sleepers are still much too big on her, and at this point, my little girl needs all the growth spurts she can get.

I reach back, tugging down the zipper on the back of my dress and pulling down the shoulder just enough to latch her onto my breast.

Nursing in front of Gale was awkward at first, but I got over my insecurities about it rather quickly. It's just part of my life now.

My hand strokes the back of her head as she nurses.

"Did she fuss?" I ask Gale.

"Just until she fell asleep," he tells me with a slight smile. Maybe all of the crying we've been putting up with for the past several weeks would be the cause of more stress if it hadn't been for my less-than-successful delivery. Now I'm just happy to be alive to hear her cry.

"My mother says she'll outgrow it in a few weeks."

"Then she'll be teething, and crawling, and talking, and _walking_," Gale says, reaching over to allow her to curl her tiny hand around his finger as she drinks hungrily.

"One day at a time, Gale," I mutter, not wanting to think too much about her growing up right now, not when growing up means reapings. "One day at a time."

…

It's the first warm day in a long time, melting most of the snow that has accumulated over the past few weeks. But it won't be long before the temperatures dip below freezing again and another snowstorm hits. We've been lucky to have enough to eat so far in a winter this bitter (though none of us would complain if our portion sizes were larger), and hopefully that luck will hold out until spring.

Our families walk together to the Justice Building, chattering happily and glad to finally be out of the house after weeks of being cooped up. When my mother holds the door open for us to follow, I take Gale's elbow, holding him back and motioning to my mother that I'll be a minute.

Gale looks perplexed as we watch our families enter the building without us and I pull him to sit with me on the bench out front.

"It's hard to find a moment alone with you anymore," I tell him with a smile that puts him at ease.

"Well, we'll have plenty of that with our own house," he tells me, wrapping an arm over my shoulders.

The past few weeks have been hectic. We've gone back and forth between my house and Gale's, depending who had room for us at the time. When it was freezing out, Hazelle had to hang her laundry throughout the house, so we went to my mother's. When a flu epidemic broke out, obviously we couldn't have Phacelia around that, so we had gone back to Hazelle's. I would be lying if I said that the house the government would be issuing us today wasn't the answer to a lot of our problems. Gale knows this too.

"Before we do this," I begin, allowing Gale to take my hand into his larger one. "I need you to know that I'm not doing it for the house, or our mothers, or anything else. It's been a rough few weeks trying to figure out where we belong."

Gale rubs his calloused thumb over the back of my hand as I speak.

"But I'm doing this because I _love _you, and for no other reason," I tell him. "My nightmares have reminded me what it would be like to have to live my life without you," I go on, choking up slightly. But I am not going to cry at my wedding, I tell myself, and I'm not going to think about _death _on a day like today. "And that's not a life worth living."

Despite myself, I do cry. This time it's not because of pregnancy hormones or anything like that; it's because I think that Gale and I finally deserve to be happy together. With so many things working against us, we've managed to pull through one of the toughest periods of our lives. I know that nothing will ever be perfect or easy for us, but I do know that as long as we're together we can make it through anything.

Gale holds my face, brushing his fingertips over my cheeks in an unsuccessful attempt wipe away the tears that only continue to flow. "I know, Catnip. I'm not planning on going _anywhere_, and I love you too."

…

There's nothing romantic about the signing of the marriage papers that takes place at the Justice Building. It's just filling out a bunch of legal forms. Once Gale and I both sign, along with a witness, we are given the address of our new house and our very own key, which we also sign for.

Our new home is only a few doors down from my mother's, and Gale is already familiar with the place.

"It's Quincy Roland's old place," Gale tells me as we leave the Justice Building. Quincy is a widower who died in the mines last spring, which I try not to think about. "It's not a bad place," he goes on, "but I already know there's a leak in the roof that'll need to be fixed sooner than later. I hate to put our dinner on hold, but I might need to pick up a few things from the hardware shop so I can work on it tomorrow."

I nod. Prim, Rory, and Vick had spent all of yesterday helping me pack our things just so we could move them in this evening. I knew that wherever we ended up would probably need a thorough cleaning along with a few repairs. Homes are usually left untouched until the next tenant takes over, and whatever damage there might be to the home is also the responsibility of its new owner.

"You can run ahead, if you want," Gale tells me as I shift Phacelia so that she's lying in my other arm. She's not the least bit heavy, but I have been carrying her for awhile now.

"No. We should walk together."

Our mothers and siblings leave for home to check on dinner as I follow Gale through the merchant district. We attract a lot of attention from some of the other residents as we make our way through the square dressed in our wedding clothes, especially Haymitch Abernathy, who is carrying an armful of bottles out of the Apothecary shop and who nods his head towards Gale with a smirk as we pass.

Gale responds with a groan, placing his hand on the small of my back as we quicken our pace.

As we eventually make our way past the bakery, I glance up to see Peeta working behind the counter. Gale's gaze instantly follows mine to where Peeta is bagging a woman's purchase and handing her a handful of change.

I ponder whether I should go in and talk to him. It doesn't look like anyone else is in the front right now, and I know from our previous trades with Mr. Mellark that Peeta's mother prefers to spend her Saturday afternoons shopping.

"I'll meet you at the hardware shop in a few minutes?" I finally ask Gale as I turn my gaze away from the bakery. His eyes dart from mine back to Peeta uncertainly before nodding.

Gale has to know that I can't just go on pretending like Peeta hadn't helped me last month after I'd gone into labor. Coming from the Seam, Gale too knows what it's like to owe someone. I'll probably never be able to _truly _repay Peeta, but I find myself unable to pass by the bakery without at least showing him my gratitude. Five years of not having thanked him for the bread he'd given me when I was starving has already been eating at me, and there's no way I can't overlook the fact that he'd saved both the life of myself and my baby.

I approach the front door apprehensively as I watch Peeta work to refill a case in the front with turnovers. As I enter, the bell on the door jingles, alerting him of a new customer, and his head snaps up as I step inside.

He looks surprised to see me, especially considering how I'm currently dressed, and backs away from the case as I slowly approach him.

"Katniss?"

"Hello, Peeta," I tell him lamely, because I have no idea what else to say—how to even _begin _thanking him for what he's done for me.

"I-," he begins nervously, reaching down to wipe his hands on his apron. "You never came back to school. I wasn't sure if everything had gone okay. I never heard any different." His gaze falls on the sleeping baby in my arms as he talks. "I guess it did," he adds quietly.

I bite my lip, because when I ran through how this would go in my mind, it was nowhere near as awkward.

"This is Phacelia," I finally tell him when I notice that he's staring, pulling back her blanket so that he can see her face. "She's six weeks old now."

Peeta peers over my shoulder and down at my daughter, smiling slightly. "She's beautiful, Katniss. She looks just like you," he adds. I'm sure it's just to be nice, since there's really no telling if she favors Gale or myself at this age.

I turn to him. "Do you want to hold her?" I ask.

"Um, I-" he begins, but I'm already placing her into his arms. Peeta's entire body stiffens once I've shifted her weight into his grasp, and I wonder if this is the first time he's ever held a baby. He stares at me for a minute before his eyes finely fall onto the sleeping bundle in his arms, the corners of his mouth turning up into a genuine smile.

"She likes you," I say.

He's still grinning when he looks up at me. "How can you tell? She's sleeping."

"Because she hasn't woken up screaming yet," I tell him with a smile.

Peeta shakes his head, chuckling a little. He extends his fingertip to carefully and softly touch the soft skin of Phacelia's clenched fist. "She's so tiny. I guess I'd forgotten how small babies are. Did you know that my brother's wife will be having a baby in the spring?"

I shake my head. "No. I didn't know that. You'll make a good uncle, Peeta."

"Yeah. I guess so," he says, and we both fall silent for a moment as he takes in the wonder of the new life he's holding in his hands.

"You really did save me that day, you know," I tell him, causing him to glance up at me.

Peeta shakes his head.

"I just carried you home, Katniss."

"You helped me when no one else would."

"Well," he begins, looking down at Phacelia and holding her more securely to him. "It shouldn't have had to be that way."

"You've been so nice to me even when you've never had a reason to be," I begin, and my voice wavers slightly.

When he finally looks back up at me, his eyes look sad.

"I guess what I'm really trying to say is thank you," I tell him, but somehow it still feels like it will never be enough. "For the bread, for offering to help me in school, for carrying me home when no one could even bring themselves to even _look _at me. I'm not sure that I ever deserved any of it, but-"

"Katniss," Peeta suddenly interrupts me, exhaling a deep breath and shaking his head in disagreement before deciding to proceed. "I'm sorry."

I frown. "What in the world do you have to be sorry for?"

He grimaces slightly. "I feel like I overstepped a boundary at some point. I knew what you had with...with Gale," he goes on. "I didn't want to come between that; you have to know that I would never _try _to. But when I saw that you were struggling, it's like I couldn't help myself. I thought it would make a difference. But he always took such good care of you, I could see that. I guess..." He shakes his head, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. "I guess maybe I also used it as an excuse to be close to you for once. I'm sure it was dumb now—to think that you needed me to take care of you at all."

So Gale was right, Peeta did have some sort of feelings for me.

And now here he is, apologizing for having them. The realization makes me feel nothing but guilt.

"Peeta, you saved my life," I tell him when he can't bring himself to look at me. "There were complications. Did you know that I nearly died that day? And I very well would have if you wouldn't have gotten me home in time. You're the only one at school other than Madge who'd made anything even close to tolerable for me. Don't regret anything you ever did for me, Peeta, because I _don't_. You were a friend when I needed one, and things would've ended up so much worse had you not been there that afternoon."

Peeta nods quietly. "Then I'm glad that I was," he answers, pausing for a moment. "Well then, I guess all sorts of congratulations are due today," he finally says, motioning towards my dress. "You've got your own family now."

I look down at my dress, smiling and blushing slightly. Gale and I are married now, but somehow it doesn't really feel official yet. Not until the meal with our family and the toasting later tonight that really makes it official.

Peeta places Phacelia carefully back into my arms.

"Wait a minute," he tells me as he walks behind the counter, retrieving a wrapped loaf of freshly-baked bread and holding it out towards me. "A gift to celebrate?"

"Peeta, I can't-"

"You can," he interrupts me. "And you owe my dad a couple of squirrels come spring," he adds with a smile.

Grinning, I finally accept his gift.

"Thank you."

"Will I see you back at school soon?" he asks, and I shake my head.

"But maybe in town in the spring," I tell him. "With those squirrels."

I know that it's wishful thinking on my part.

Peeta bids me farewell and I meet Gale out front of the bakery.

We take our first walk home together as a married couple. As a _family._

…

We have a grand dinner once we get back to Hazelle's—a stew made of butcher meat (a fattier cut) and potatoes and carrots (canned, from the dented quick-sale shelf, of course), along with a compact loaf of bread made from tesserae grain. It's not the food but the people who make it special. But let's face it, everything's better when there's enough food to satisfy everyone.

"Can I stay the night at your guys's house tonight?" Posy asks Gale and I not two seconds after we've finished eating dinner and Vick is loading up a wagon with the things we'll need at the new house right away. Most of them are for Phacelia, since Gale and I have always been able to make do with very little.

"Not tonight, Posy," Rory scolds his little sister. "They want to be alone so they can consummate their marriage," he tells her, causing Gale to drag the palm of his hand down his face in anguish. "Oh, right," he adds, smirking at his older brother, and poor little Posy looks just as confused as ever.

"I think I'll miss you most of all, Rory," Gale says sarcastically, heaving one of the boxes that wouldn't fit into the little red wagon up into his arms. Luckily, our home is already furnished, so all we really had to bring was our clothing and a few other personal items.

Eventually we reach our destination—the old house that Gale and I will now call our own. Sure enough, even though it hasn't even been abandoned for a year, it looks run-down. Gale grimaces up towards the roof.

"Will you have time to fix it?" I ask him.

"Not tonight," he answers. "But we'll make do. Thom promised to lend a hand tomorrow if we need it."

He places the box that he's holding down on the bottom step and Vick begins to unpack the wagon while Rory uses the key, attempting to free the latch of the rusted lock. Prim takes Phalecia from my arms and, without warning, Gale heaves me up into his arms, causing her to laugh behind me. I am so taken off-guard that I emit a sudden yelp at his action.

"Gale!" I warn, tensing in his arms.

"It's tradition, Catnip," he insists, nodding back towards our families, who serenade us with the traditional toasting song as we cross the threshold of the house.

"Because this is such a traditional marriage," I say as he sets me down on the worn floorboards once we are inside.

Gale cups the back of my head, tilting it back slightly so that we can share our first married kiss in our very own house.

"At least wait until we've left to do that!" Rory yells from outside, and Gale waves him away.

It doesn't take long to unpack our things with all of the help that's accompanied us. Hazelle sets up Phacelia's cradle in the corner of the bedroom while Mother and Prim begin a thorough dusting and sweeping of the house. Rory and Vick help Gale carry the heavier boxes into the house as Posy helps me unpack them. Soon, our house is presentable enough to be inhabited for the night.

We didn't bring a whole lot in terms of food, since our families have found it to be much more economical to gather at one house for dinner, but already our house feels like a home.

Gale is building up the fire as our families prepare to leave. Everyone's tired from the long day, the younger kids rubbing their weary eyes as they pull their winter coats back on.

"We're just down the road," my mother tells me as I'm seeing her towards the door. "If you need _anything _at all, even if it's in the middle of the night-"

"I know," I say with a smile since we'd went over this earlier today. I allow her to pull me into her arms, and I tightly hug her back. "Congratulations," she murmurs into my hair.

"Thank you."

Prim is next to hug me, and I find myself unable to let go, even tearing up a bit at her departure.

"I'll miss being woke up by your nightmares," she says.

"I'll miss your cold feet," I tell her.

We're laughing and hugging and crying all at the same time.

"I'll come watch Phacelia tomorrow so you can take a nap," she adds.

I push her at arm's length, tugging playfully on both of her braids.

"I miss you already."

…

Once Phacelia is down for the night (or in her case, for just a few hours), Gale and I hold a slice of the baker's bread that Peeta had given me earlier over the fire with metal tongs until it's perfectly browned. It's unreal how far Gale and I come in just a year. Last winter we were nothing more than hunting partners and friends, relying on one another to help keep our families alive, and now we have a little family of our own.

Life is happier, but we're still facing all of the obstacles we did all of those months ago. I worry about keeping Prim in school so that someday in the future maybe she'll have the opportunity to do something great. I haven't exactly set the best example for her by dropping out myself, but I know that someone as special as Prim was meant to do more than work in the mines or become a housewife.

I worry about my mother's depression, even though she's shown me that she _is _here for me now. I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for her quick thinking that saved my life only six weeks ago. I guess we've come a long way, and the bond between us that was once broken has begun to mend itself. I feel like I can rely on her now as both a mother and a grandmother.

Then there's the mines and the lives they take every year and knowing that there's a possibility that Gale's could someday be one of them. I want so badly for there to be another option for him in the future. Who knows? Maybe there will be.

And I especially worry about the reaping and Prim and Rory with their extra slips. There's also my 20 plus slips and the fact that I have more people relying on me to stay alive now. I have two more reapings to endure, but it's so far out of my control that I try not to think about it. Of course, once the time comes again, it will be _all _that I think about.

No, there's still plenty of things to worry about, only now Gale and I are facing them all together.

I watch Gale's handsome face glow from the fire as he turns to me, offering the slice of bread with a grin.

Gale, who has enough fire in him to fight for what he believes in, but a certain gentleness that he reserves only for the ones in his life who he loves the most. A boy that's turned into a man over the past few years before my very eyes, and has proved time and time again that he would do anything for the people that he cares about. He's the one person that I've always felt I could depend on.

"Not bad, huh?" he asks me.

I nod, but I'm not looking at the toast.

"Yes, but I'm actually not very hungry," I tell him, moving the tongs away and placing them on the stone base of the fireplace. Gale watches me as I stand, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh?" he asks, rising from the floor to join me.

I shake my head, taking his hand into mine and pulling him towards our bedroom.

There's a bit of apprehension—we haven't done this in so long. But we find our way quickly enough. My rental dress pools to the floor around my ankles and Gale's reaping day clothes are thrown carelessly aside as we find our way to the bed.

And then he's looming over me, pushing my loose hair from my face and looking into my eyes.

"I can't believe you're my wife," he says, and I smile.

"I can't believe _you're _my husband," I tell him.

We come together in a way that's old and new—exciting yet familiar. And, now that I've experienced it firsthand, it's hard to believe that there was ever a time when I doubted I could fall in love.


	26. Epilogue

_Seasons of Wither, Epilogue_

I walk through the meadow along the fence that boarders District 12. Wildflowers bloom, birds chirp, and the sun shines down through the cloudless sky, warming the earth. It's such a simple joy that I guess I've always taken for granted, but after the harsh and bitter winter we have endured, I take my time walking home—the long way—from Hazelle's house.

Gale had spent much of his winter in the mines, working seven days a week and sometimes even 18 hours a day in an attempt to meet Capitol quota. The power was cut to the district sometime around the end of February, since apparently the Capitlites weren't too crazy about having to ration their energy usage. Luckily for us, we're used to doing without electricity, and if anything the lack of power only meant a nice break from viewing the mandatory Capitol propaganda that airs each week.

Sure enough, now that spring has come, even though power has been restored to 12 during the evening hours, the fence remains off. Madge had told me earlier this month that the Capitol has given up their attempt to control the animal population surrounding the district, deeming it too expensive and unnecessary. That's their way of saying that the lack of some of the trivial luxuries in the Capitol aren't worth giving up to scare a few potential runaways.

The wildlife is very slowly starting to inhabit the area once again. Whatever toxins were poured into the nearby river have begun to wash downstream thanks to the heavy spring rains. I had even witnessed a wild turkey strutting on the other side of the fence last week, proof that the wildlife is not only thriving, but mating, and will continue to dwell.

Our lake is gone. I don't need to make the long trek there to know that it's unlikely that any life will be able to inhabit it during my lifetime. The only thing that remains of the lake are the memories of the days spent there with my father when I was young—one thing the Capitol will never be able to take away from me.

Today marks my first day traveling outside the district since they day I was trapped, and I do so apprehensively.

When I am completely certain that the power is off and that no one is watching, I squeeze easily through the usual opening in the fence. I won't hunt today—Gale doesn't know where I am and will expect me home shortly—but I do check to make sure that the bows my father crafted before his death are still in their watertight sheaths hidden the hallowed-out log where I've always stored them.

I take my bow out of its sheath, feeling its weight in my hands and the smoothness of the hand-carved oak and remember what it was like to hunt. Some days the daily repetitiveness of motherhood gets to me, and I find myself itching to get back into the woods. I love my daughter, but hunting is very much a part of me that I haven't had the privilege of indulging in for so long.

I suppress the urge to take a few practice shots, instead storing the bow once again into its designated hiding spot and setting off for home.

In a few weeks, once I can convince Gale of it, I will return to the woods. It is my hope that I will be able to better provide for my family with the resources available in the wild. My mother has already run out of many of the medicines that can only be gathered outside the district, her apothecary business dwindling. Many of the more wealthy citizens have come to me over the past few weeks asking for their usual delicacies, and Greasy Sae's stew hasn't been the same since she turned to using mice and possum.

With the freedom to once again venture outside of the district fence comes the opportunity to flee. I don't tell Gale my plans yet—that once Prim, Rory, and Vick have outgrown the reaping and before Phacelia is of reaping age, we will take take off and disappear into the woods together. My decision was made for me the moment I held my daughter in my arms. Knowing that maybe somewhere else I can give her the life that she deserves—one without starvation or reapings—had fueled the drastic decision I had once chastised Gale for considering.

Until then, I'll spend every summer dreading the day that the Capitol trains will come into town to hold the reaping, reliving the nightmares that still plague my dreams, and grabbing on desperately to the hope that my name won't be the next one that Effie Trinket draws from the bowl.

**End.**


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